


What Makes a Monster

by Stormlyht



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, POV Change, Set in season 7, Slow Build, between the Amazon episode and Castiel returning, some homophobia, spoilers to the beginning of Season 8, torture (later in story)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-08-09 19:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 60
Words: 69,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7813936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormlyht/pseuds/Stormlyht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are on a ghost hunting mission, but there are more dangers in the small town than they first realize. Is the real threat the creature they find, or Deans inability to separate his confusion over his sexuality and his confusion over what makes a monster?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hounds and the Fox - Zack

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we are. Ginger Monster. This baby was the first SPN fanfiction I started writing, before season 8 was even out. Now look at it, all grown up and around 70k once all is said and done. Prepare for a journey folks. A journey of many Sam sighs.
> 
> I change POV each chapter, and also between third person and first. I have asked multiple sources if this is jarring or terrible to read, and all have said it was okay, but I knew I had to warn everyone about it because it is an odd thing to do. Each chapter will be titled with the POV I'm in.
> 
> I know that OC's aren't something most people like, and I'm not going to lie, there is no story without Zack. What I ask is that you give it a try. I don't generally like having OC's in my stories either, but this came to me and I started writing it and I fell in love with Zack pretty much right off.
> 
> My writing has grown over the years, and going back to edit this was like an awakening. I was really amazed at how much better it has gotten and I'm very pleased to begin posting this for you all to read.
> 
> Also, I suck at tagging, so PLEASE, if I've managed to leave something out you feel is needed, let me know so I can add it. This is a huge story, so comment at any point.
> 
> So many thanks to Tanzenlicht. Without them this story would not exist. I mean that in every single sense. They spurred me on, reminded me about the story regularly, pestered me for more, and even did art to encourage me to complete this work. Multiple conversations of hilarity ensued regarding characters and plot points, titles and more. I cannot express in words the gratitude I have. Thank you.
> 
> Lastly, I intend to update Tuesday's and Friday's. I might do bonus updates on other days, but don't depend on it. Thank you so much for giving Ginger Monster a try, please enjoy!

The Hounds and the Fox - Zack

The thing about the Winchesters was, you didn’t fuck with them. Seriously. If they came around, you leave. Leave town, leave your home, don’t look back. ‘Cause even if they’re not hunting for you, they would gladly cut you up in the line of their “work”. When I first met them they weren’t after me.

I’ve always kept a low profile. Took care not to do the wrong thing, didn’t kill anyone, took a “normal” and “human” job to get by. I did alright for myself, I worked in a hospital and I didn’t get into trouble. I was born a monster and there was nothing I could do to fix that. Not that I hadn’t looked, because I had. For years I tried remedies that would cure “monster” right out of me, but it was hereditary and there was no way around that. I did what I could to blend in and not make waves.

Like Amy Pond had, and we all know what happened to her. Dean Fucking Winchester had happened to her. Sam let her go, but not Dean. Oh no, he had to hunt and kill her, not even making sure her son wasn’t around to see him do it. Messed that boy right up, it’s gonna be bad when he goes to collect that blood debt from Dean.

I’d already been on my way to see her, but by the time I had gotten there she was dead and the Elders were taking a cold eyed little boy away. They turned me down when I offered to raise him, and of course they did because they didn’t like me. I wasn’t monster enough for the Elders. By the time the Elders were done with that little boy there would be no forgiveness and no forgetting either. There wasn’t anything I could do though, so I returned home.

Anyway, when the Winchesters came into my morgue I wanted to run screaming out of the room. There was a ghost problem that I’d been too busy to figure out yet, and while they were certainly more equipped to handle it, I didn’t want them *here*. Here is where *I* was, and the longer they hung around, the more likely they were to realize I was monster, and therefore killable.

Sagamore Hills was a small place in Ohio, a township, and it shared a post office with Northfield. Sagamore and Northfield also shared a school system with neighboring Macedonia, that’s how small and off the map we were. The last thing I had expected was hunter activity down here, at least not so soon, and certainly not from the Winchesters. Rumor had it they were trying to kill the Leviathan’s, and I was all for that. Kill those fuckers, they needed it more than I did.

My heart pounded when they introduced themselves as “Detectives Page and Bonham” and when I shook their hands my own was sweaty. I was trying my best to keep the fear from my eyes, but mostly that meant that I didn’t look directly at them for more than a few moments at a time. Dean seemed to notice, and damn he had gorgeous green eyes. I kept reminding myself that these were the psycho brothers themselves and I had failed miserably at taking care of problems before hunters came to town.

There were two bodies so far, killed in the past week, and I tripped over my own two feet when I went for the second body, knocking my head into the metal before I managed to open the locker. As I answered questions, I ended up flailing a hand a little and I knocked my instrument tray over with it. Turning quickly to clean up the mess, they apologized for taking up so much of my time and began heading out. It’s possible they just thought I was an idiot, or that I was very nervous to have the FBI in my backyard, but they definitely thought something was off. I think. I’m pretty sure.

When they left, I breathed a huge sigh of relief, which was when Dean turned around and glanced back at me. There was no way to hide the sigh, so I let it continue and ended up stuck in his bright green gaze. God those eyes were beautiful. I mean, if I wasn’t what I was, I would so be hitting on that, so very fast. The stubble only made him sexier, the full lips would be beautiful if they were kiss flushed and slightly slick from his pink tongue darting across it. Let’s not think about the rest of the body, all hard muscles and tight grasps. I bet he was wild in bed, hard touches and fast… I felt my eyes widen and my face flush as I realized what I was doing. This was bad, very, very bad, I was fantasizing about the man who would kill me in a heartbeat if he knew what I was.

Sam came for Dean at that moment and the gaze was broken, thankfully, but I caught Sam’s curious look and I turned away from the window. Maybe they’d just think I was crazy, or gay? That could work in my favor. Possibly.


	2. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update #1. Yes, I know it's not Tuesday, but guess what? You'll get a chapter tomorrow as well!

“I’m just saying that I think he’s kind of odd,” Dean said as he opened the motel room door and walked inside. There weren’t many places to stay and they’d ended up bunked down at a Motel 6 right off the freeway. Restaurants were popular, a Chinese buffet was within walking distance, as well as a Bob Evans and some kind of Mexican place.

“I think…” Sam trailed off and closed the door behind him. “Well, to be honest, I think he thought you were good looking.”

“I am good looking,” Dean preened, then the phrase caught up with him and he glanced at his brother. “No, seriously? You think he was giving me bedroom eyes?”

“Dean,” Sam said with a sigh as he sat down at the little table in the room and loosened his tie. “He seemed awkward and uncomfortable. Maybe it was just that he’d never had to deal with the FBI before?”

“Did you notice that he wasn’t surprised when he told us all the details?” Dean asked. He kicked off his shoes and sat on the edge of the bed. Dean had asked for two doubles instead of a single queen and the receptionist had been surprised. It was beginning to drive Dean crazy how many people seemed to think he and Sam were an item.

“So?” Sam’s brows furrowed in confusion. “He seemed like any other coroner in that way.”

“No, I mean,” Dean paused. Zack, the coroner, was bothering him for some reason. “He spoke about the fact that the hearts had been stopped but there had been no drugs in their systems, only he hadn’t sounded confused. Like it was just fact, and most coroners at least sound surprised about it.” That wasn’t the only thing that struck Dean as odd, but it was one of the ones that stuck out.

“Maybe he did just take it as fact. You know there are scientists that accept details and don’t question them. There are people out there that dig and hunt for facts out of curiosity, but don’t accept things they can’t see.” Sam grinned at Dean and leaned back in his chair. “I think you’re creeped out because of the bedroom eyes.”

“I don’t think so.” Dean ignored Sam and fell back on the bed to frown up at the ceiling. “Maybe I’m wrong. There was just something odd about him. Something other than the gay thing.”

“Well I think we’ve gotten all we can from him, so hope we won’t need to meet with him again. I think this is pretty open and shut, we just need to find the ghost responsible and burn the bones, and I even have a good lead.” Dean could hear Sam pull out his laptop and begin typing. “There’s a cemetery nearby that houses some really old graves, and there’s a rumor about a lady who comes out to kill trespassers.”

“Do you know who that lady is?” Dean asked, finally twisting up enough to look at his brother.

“Nope, not yet, but there are a couple places we can work on getting that information.” He nodded at Dean. “You’ll want to hit Johnny T’s and I’ll head around to the library.”

“What’s Johnny T’s?” Dean asked curiously.

“It’s a bar, I thought that’d be the place for you,” Sam grinned, and Dean nodded.

“Absolutely.”


	3. Zack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, Tuesday update! I'm going to do my best to keep these coming, because I know what a long ride this is going to be. I hope you're enjoying yourself so far, I know there isn't much yet to judge on.
> 
> Also, a thank you to Tanzy, for the title of the story and the summary. I am terrible at both of those things, and I have some very humorous titles that I totally didn't use to show for it. Some of them will be popping up as chapter titles here and there. Enjoy them.

Johnny T’s was one of those small town bars that mostly served locals, and as such, it was rampant with gossip and drunk’s and rumors. For me, it was safe. I knew many of the people who came in, and I was a regular so I barely had to ask for anything. When I really needed to relax and watch drunks walk into walls or flirt with people who were ignoring them, I went in for a few hours. Today I certainly needed that atmosphere.

I was sitting with a beer as I tried to decide what to do. On the one hand, if the ghost was taken care of immediately, then the brothers would leave and I’d be undisturbed. On the other hand, if it wasn’t, they might catch wind of what I was and come after me. At that point, I’d be forced to run, and I’d lived here almost my entire life and I didn’t relish the thought of starting all over again. My foster parents lived seven minutes away from my house, and they’d done good by me. People knew me here.

If they were done quickly, I could wipe my hands of the whole affair and get on with my life. If I was unlucky, they’d figure out what I was and I’d spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for the Winchesters to come kill me. With a sigh, I realized either way, it was better if they stayed and took care of the ghost than left and I had to do the work. I wasn’t nearly as skilled as they were and I had a job already. Hunting *was* their job. I took another sip of my beer and decided not to call the real FBI to let them know the Winchesters were in town. Which was when the door opened and Dean Winchester came into the bar.

Shit, shit, shit, shit! No, no, no, how did I hide from him now? No, wait, act cool, it’s fine, he’s allowed to come into a bar. In fact, if I’d thought of it, I’d have bought a bottle of wine and headed home. According to all rumors about him, he always ended up talking to people in a bar. I should have remembered! Why hadn’t I been thinking?

His eyes swept the room and landed on me for a moment. The flicker of recognition in his eyes was enough to make me blush. I looked down into foam and tried not to think too much. Maybe he wouldn’t walk over to me. I was uninteresting, yes, blend in with the wall, I could… not really do that. If I pretended enough though, maybe he’d get the message and go chat up the women. That was more his style, he liked women, I knew that about him and - 

“Hey,” he said, voice so near that I jumped and looked up at him with wide eyes. He was at my table, he was right there, grinning. I should run away, I should… “I didn’t know coroners liked to get a pint after work.”

“Drink,” I gasped out with a nod, one hand clutching at the cup so hard I could feel the glass straining.

“Yeah,” he said, eyebrows raising. “It’s a drink.” I took several deep breaths to try and steady myself and I forced my fingers to unclench. This was bad, I needed to relax. “You come here often?”

Was he checking me out? No, there was no way. “Yeah,” I said breathlessly. That was okay, talk, talking was fine. Just don’t let on that you know anything extra about the case, and that you’re a creepy thing he’d kill with his eyes closed if he knew.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, and apparently you’re completely in need of that drink, so I’ll just get my own now.” He shook his head and put up his hands in surrender before walking off.

I nodded at him and watched him head to the bar. Great move me, way to show you’re not strange to the man who would do you harm. I swallowed half the pint in one breath and signaled to the waitress for another before finishing the rest. I wasn’t getting out of here alive, not unless I waited until Dean left and then left after. That was my best bet, and I was going to have to somehow last that long.

Heart, don’t fail me now.


	4. Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Into Sam's head you go. For a little while at least. Have a good weekend all!

The Nordonia Hills Library was open until 8:30, so Sam was easily able to slip in around 7. It was a nice building, more recently built with lots of light. The friendly librarians got him set up in minutes with four different books about the town and it’s history.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about the area. Sam found that there were a few different cemeteries, not just the one, and he was able to make a quick map of them all. Just as he was delving into old local legends he heard a few giggles nearby and he looked up from his book.

There were two girls sitting at a nearby table pretending to read. Mostly though, they were looking at him, and when they caught his gaze, one of them giggled and the other winked at him. Sam gave them a smile and nodded at them. The victims had both been young women, it would make perfect sense to ask them about it.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” the one who had winked said, twirling a piece of gum in her finger. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Sam,” he said as he sat up straight.

“Bethany,” the same girl said, slipping the gum back into her mouth. “This here is Samantha, but she goes by Manth.”

“I do not,” the other girl protested. She shrugged at Sam. “I usually go by Sam, but that could get weird when talking to another Sam.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sam said.

“What are you researching?” Bethany asked as Samantha sat back and crossed her legs at the ankles. 

“Local legends. Know any good ones?” Sam asked.

“What kind of local legends? Like the scary ones or the weird ones?” Samantha asked.

“We could start with scary and move on the weird,” Sam said, pulling out a card. He stood up and came over to their table, taking a seat across from them and offering the card. “I work for a magazine and I’m doing a piece about small towns and their colorful histories.” Samantha took the card before Bethany could even reach for it.

“Colorful? Well, we could tell you all kinds of stories,” Bethany said, glancing at Samantha, who grinned at her.

“Where do you want us to start?” Samantha asked as she stroked the card across her lips.

This could get… interesting. He had to be careful here, as it was obvious they were jailbait, but he had a feeling he could get some good info from them.

“Start with ghost stories, those always sell well.” Sam picked up his pen and opened his notebook to a blank page. He hoped Dean was doing just as well as he was.


	5. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter comes complete with art. As I mentioned, Tanzenlicht is the reason why this story is finished. One of their techniques to encourage further chapters was to do art for me when I wrote more. It was very wonderful and exciting for me! Thank you again!

The bartender wasn’t too bad looking, in an over 35 sort of way, and she kept looking at Dean as though she wanted to eat him up for breakfast. Normally that would be fine with him, but he wasn’t really into it. He’d just recently had an Amazon daughter, and if that wasn’t a call to stop having sex, he didn’t know what was.

Maybe he could try anal? He’d done it a few times, but it wasn’t the kind of thing you could just ask someone, even for him. When he was pretending not to think about things, he had begun wondering if he was interested in something entirely else. There were times, there *had been* times, when he’d felt something for Cas that made him question his sexuality. But Cas was gone, and not ever coming back, and Dean Winchester was currently not interested in sex.

He *was* interested in information though, and she was full of fun tales. Such as old women killing young women because of their beauty (standard), something about a man who liked to cut up young kids because he couldn’t have any of his own (unusual but no one had been cut up so), and a not so interesting story about a rabbit that Dean figured was an analogy for sex. It was easier to get her to talk about the coroner sitting in the corner than he’d anticipated.

“Oh, you mean Zack?” she asked as she nodded in the direction of the man in question. “Yeah, he comes in here all the time. I think he likes to people watch. He just sits there, drinks his beer and then goes home,” the bartender shrugged.

“He got any family?” Dean asked, drinking his shot and getting another with ease. She hadn’t even taken the bottle away. Glancing at Zack, Dean tried to figure why it was the man bothered him so much.

He was a little taller than Dean with ginger colored hair that fell just past his shoulders. In the morgue, it had been pulled back in a ponytail, but at the bar it was out and loose around his shoulders, and Dean could see that it was thick. His skin was lightly tanned and well freckled, contrasting nicely with the green button down he was wearing today. Almost as though Zack knew they were talking about them, he glanced over at Dean and Dean found himself caught in that rich brown gaze. It wasn’t normal for Dean’s heart to pick up speed when he was looking at guys, but when he managed to wrench his gaze away from Zack, he had to take a breath to steady it. Which was just weird.

[](http://imgur.com/FFWWJsg)

 

“Used to, I assume,” the bartender said, ploughing right on to answer Dean’s question as though she hadn’t noticed Dean looking at Zack. Maybe she hadn’t. “But he’s lived here for a long time alone. Ended up in a foster home and worked for a while when he was a teenager at one of the cemetery’s. I guess he’s got a thing for the dead.” She shivered dramatically, but Dean could see it didn’t really bother her. For one, there were no goosebumps.

“Seriously? What kind of child wants to work in a cemetery?” Dean asked conversationally even though he was curious. Were they dealing with something other than a ghost?

“That kind I guess. He went from foster care to college, came back and continued to work here for the hospital and police. We don’t have a lot of death around these parts so he goes wherever he’s needed.” She poured him another shot. “Is he that interesting?”

“Just curious,” Dean flashed her his sexy grin and she giggled.

“Nothing wrong with curious, I guess. Zack’s a nice guy, solid, you know? A little clumsy but friendly and always nice to people. Goes out of his way to help others.”

“He ever lie?” Dean asked, glancing back at the red head curiously. There was just something about him that bothered Dean. Something that he could trace back to the moment this Zack person had first seen him and his brother.

“Of course not,” she said with a laugh. “I mean, probably, everyone does, right? But not that anyone’s caught on to. He’s one of the good guys.”

If it was one thing Dean knew, it was that good guys could be quite bad guys when they needed to be. “Thanks,” he said, giving her a grin and taking another refill before standing to head back over to Zack. Maybe now the other man would be calm enough to talk to.


	6. Zack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a great weekend guys. I hope your holiday is grand. :)

It had taken a while, but I’d finally managed to relax. People were being fascinating tonight, mingling and laughing like they were trying to get the last laugh out before they died. There was a definite edge of hysteria to their movements, and I wondered briefly if it was because of the recent murders.

One of the girls on the dance floor seemed to be trying to climb into her date’s throat, and there was another couple in the shadows making out. It wasn’t even light, it was heavy under the clothes petting that usually led to bathroom or car sex. It must be nice to think it wasn’t a big deal to procreate.

“Hey again,” a deep, low, and incredibly sexy voice said near my side.

I jumped and twisted around so quickly one of my hands knocked across the table, crashed into my beer and hit the glass, sending it flying. It slammed into Dean’s body, right below the waist and the second half of it’s contents spilled out across him.

“Shit!” I swore, for the moment forgetting who was in front of me in my rush to get napkins and clean up my mess. The pint shattered on the ground, and suddenly we were the focus of the entire bar.

“Dude!” Dean said, backing away a bit to look at the alcohol soaking into his pants. “Relax much?”

“No, not much,” I admitted as I looked up at him with a handful of napkins. Even though he was too far away now my hand flailed in the air for a second as though I was trying to clean the air off instead of him.

“Watch the hands man,” he said and I realized that I’d had my hands all over his leg for a second.

My eyes wide, I whispered, “I’m so sorry.” A part of me was trembling, that deep survival part of me. Mentally I was trying to remember if I’d ever heard of him killing someone for spilling beer on them. I mean, this man really could kill me. He had killed my kind, and that was because they were trying to save their child. Had I just completely pissed him off? How big was the threat?

Sound resumed around us as the waitress came over and started cleaning up the mess, giving me a sigh and a glare. It was the fifth glass I’d broken this month, they were putting the cost of the glasses on my tab now because of it. I hardly noticed the glare though, as I was once again caught in emerald light, otherwise known as Dean’s eyes.

“You really need to chill out, you know that?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. “If I leave my drink here, will you kill it while I’m gone?”

“Um…” I wrenched my gaze from his and looked at his glass. He was drinking shots. Of course he was drinking shots, it’s what Dean Winchester did. “No?”

“Well, since you can’t be sure, I’ll take it with me. That’s alcohol abuse, you know?” he asked, pointing down at the ground and my gaze followed his finger.

“So I’ve been told,” I replied mournfully. I still had to *pay* for that drink.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “I want to talk to you. Don’t go anywhere.”

Where would I go? He’d find me if he wanted to, because that’s what his kind, him specifically, did. Nodding, I put my head on my hands on the table once he was in the men’s room. I regularly fucked up, and at this rate, it was going to get me killed.


	7. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a great weekend. <3 Have some Dean thoughts.

Dean had to hand it to the guy, he certainly *acted* like a shy, anxious dude. Placing his drink on the counter, he grabbed some paper towels and began cleaning up the beer. There was something deeper though, that still bothered him. As he wiped up, mourning the fact that it would look like he’d wet himself the rest of the night, he considered the facts.

For one, the coroner wasn’t at all disturbed by the deaths. He seemed to accept all facts as though they were simple and expected. Two, he was definitely uncomfortable around Dean and Sam both. Three, he looked like a deer caught in headlights every time Dean looked at him. Four, he tried to make himself look small and insignificant when he knew he was being watched, but when he didn’t know, he seemed comfortable and perfectly… normal? Looking up at himself in the mirror, Dean shrugged. “There’s probably nothing unusual here,” he said to himself. Mirror him agreed.

It was perfectly possible that it was simply homosexual desire. Zack could simply have seen Dean and though, “Hey, I wanna tap that!” or he could have just as easily seen Sam and thought the same thing with a side order of, “I wonder if those two working together are tapping each other?”. A lot of people seemed to pair Dean with Sam and Sam with Dean and it bothered him to think about it, so he tended to blot it out of his mind. If normal girls thought those things about boys, they looked coy and curious and giggled a lot. If normal guys thought those things about girls, they grinned, winked and waggled their eyebrows.

Dean could admit freely that he didn’t know what normal gay’s did. He’d never been around one much, unless you counted Crowley, and he didn’t. All his normal contacts were straight, and it didn’t bother him for people to be gay, but that didn’t really feel like what was going on here.

He almost felt as though Zack knew who they were. It was a valid possibility. Their faces had been plastered all over the US news, and it wouldn’t take a genius to figure them out. The problem with that scenario was that if this Zack guy knew who they were, he should have informed the cops, or informed someone at least, and no one was alerted. If they had been, then Sam and Dean would be leaving, or they’d be caught. No one was bothering them, ergo, no one knew they were here.

Backing away from the sink, he sighed again. There was nothing more he could do for the moment. Downing his drink, he played with the end of his shirt, trying to pull it down over the wet patch. It was a dark bar, he could fake it. He already needed another drink. This time he’d walk up to the other man, make eye contact before reaching the table, and sit down to talk. Hopefully that wouldn’t lead to more alcohol mishaps.


	8. Zack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your first 1k chapter. I promise, there will be more. Have a great weekend guys! <3 Thanks for reading.

I had done it again, messed up in another fabulous way, and now Dean would be doubly suspicious of me. By the time he came out of the bathroom, I had lifted my head, drunk a full beer, gotten a refill, and was trying not to look like my executioner was coming for me. That last part wasn’t easy, but I was doing my best. It would help if my executioner wasn’t so good looking.

He strode over to me as though I was a frightened forest animal he had to approach with caution. I suppose he wasn’t too far from the truth really, but I wasn’t likely to do more harm. Holding up my hands in surrender, he relaxed a little and took the final steps to the table.

Catching his gaze made my pulse race and that just reminded me of how long I’d been celibate. “You see me, right?” he asked cautiously, and I nodded. “You’re not going to freak out this time?”

I snorted and took in a breath. “Sorry, no one really talks to me much so I get used to being alone,” I managed to say, even though my voice was unsteady. This was the part where I should leave, run, get far away and never look back. By far that would be the safest option.

Taking a seat across from me, Dean let out a sigh. “I’m not used to freaking people out like that.” Then he signaled for another drink. I quietly watched, not saying anything until he’d gotten the drink, downed it, and was in the process of getting another.

“I get that. I mean,” I said as I considered his job. “You probably have people who fawn over you,” the women in bars, out of bars, just women in general actually, his whole demeanor was delicious. “Those who run from you,” mostly bad guys, and that made sense, because Dean and Sam were damn good at what they did. “But probably there aren’t many that are startled by you.” It wasn’t like he really made a habit of sneaking exactly. My head felt a little fuzzy and I wondered how many drinks I’d had by now. I should stop drinking, horrible things would come out of my mouth if I wasn’t careful.

He raised his eyebrows at me. “You think? All of that?”

“I think a lot,” I agreed with a slight nod. “It often gets me in trouble.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” I was leaving it at that. I prayed he didn’t dig because he was beautiful and deadly and I wanted to strip him of all his clothes in order to hear all the beautiful noises that would come from his mouth when he was touched in just the right ways. It would be like sleeping with a cobra, but I still wanted to.

“What are you thinking now?” he asked, and I felt my face flush. To try to mask my embarrassment, I raised my eyebrows.

“You don’t want to know,” I whispered. The drunk haze was getting thicker now, which was a bad thing because the more questions got asked, the more likely I was to tell the truth. I lost all filter when I got drunk, and why they hell had I allowed myself to drink so much anyway?

“Yeah, my partner would probably agree with you. So are you gay or something? I mean, you stare at me a lot.” He just blurted it out, and I stared at him, eyes blinking a few times.

“What?” I finally managed to squeak.

“He’s right again,” Dean shook his head, leaning back to sip his drink, his gaze still fixed on me. “I hate it when he’s right all the time.”

I knew my face was bright red, it felt hot and I was a little dizzy with embarrassment. To mask my inability to come up with coherent sentences, I took another sip of beer. Beer would help, at the moment, I was sure of that. I was also certain that talking wouldn’t help, so I didn’t say anything.

He was studying me as though he was trying to make a decision and I couldn’t keep meeting that steady gaze. I looked down, and the first thing I saw was his hands. Strong, rough edged from the work he did, a cut on the outside of one hand, calluses and bruises all over. The nails were trimmed short, no doubt so they wouldn’t snag on anything, and because my sight was good, I could also see there was dirt under a few fingernails. I smiled as I realized that I liked how darkly tanned he was, the way it almost looked like the sun had kissed his skin, loved and cherished it. It was a completely natural look for him, dark, rich brown flesh that he was meant to have, that -

“Is there something on my hands?” Dean asked, voice interrupting my internal monologue, and I snapped my gaze up to his face.

“What?” I asked, trying to make sense of what he’d said. To help with my confusion, I took a long drink of my beer.

“I asked if there was something on my hands. You’ve been staring at them as though they were going to start doing something interesting.”

“Oh, that. I didn’t want to keep staring at your face, so I thought I’d look down. There they were,” I said, nodding. The answer made perfect sense to me. “They’re good hands you know, very strong. I bet they can do all sorts of things.” All sorts of wonderful, tantalizing things.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” Dean asked as a smirk played across his lips.

“Oh yes,” I nodded, returning the look with a grin of my own. “As a skunk.” It was too late, I was too drunk to filter properly, and it should bother me, but I just didn’t care. I was relaxed, with that light buzz in my head that made all thoughts softer. It was incredibly dangerous for me to be out of control around Dean Winchester, but it just felt like a forgone conclusion that I wouldn’t be able to protect myself properly from him.


	9. Dean

Dean was well versed in getting people drunk and then prying information out of them. Usually it was actually fun watching someone fall into drunkenness, and in the case of Zack, it certainly was. There was an art to figuring out the best opportunities to ask leading questions, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it was just about time to work on asking Zack some personal things. Maybe he could finally get some answers.

“Are you sure you should keep drinking?” he asked with a smile. Step one, lead Zack into false security by showing concern for his wellbeing. “You’re going to have to call a taxi.”

“Taxi?” Zack chuckled. “I’ll just walk home. I’m… no,” his brow furrowed in confusion as he considered that. “I can’t walk.” Now he tilted his head to one side speculatively. “Maybe I could walk.”

“How far away do you live?” Dean asked, ready to take note of where this man lived. It could be important, once he figured out what was bothering him.

“Not far, by car. About… oh, ten minutes or so. A nice, quiet street, in a nice quite town. This was just what I wanted.” Zack sighed and leaned his head on his hand. His eyes looked tired, lids falling closed, warm brown eyes disappearing from Dean’s sight. Quiet wasn’t necessarily what most monsters craved, and he swirled the whiskey in his glass as he considered that. Was he wondering if Zack was a monster? If he was, then he wouldn’t stay around, right? Not now that Dean and Sam were in town.

“You wanted a quiet town? Why?” he asked as he closely watched Zack. Most creatures liked bigger towns for the anonymity they afforded. It was more difficult in a small town to stay hidden.

“Because I didn’t like the city. Too many people. I guess I’m a woods type of guy.” He sighed and opened his eyes again, a strand of hair falling over his cheek. “I like the forests and the deer and the chirping birds. Seasons are nice too, the fall is the best.” Zack gave Dean a small smirk. “What’s your favorite season, *Detective*?” The emphasis on the last word sounded mocking, and Dean had to wonder why.

“I like the spring,” Dean said eventually. It was more difficult to distance himself from the conversation than he expected. Not that it mattered if Zack knew the truth, and there wasn’t really a reason to lie, but Dean usually did.

“Huh, spring? I’d have pegged you for a summer guy,” Zack mused. Now that he was talking, the words tumbled out of him in a rush and Dean smirked as he listened to Zack ramble. “The time when the sun is brightest on you, the days are long and the nights are short. Oh, does that make your work more difficult, having short nights? I bet it does.” His voice was starting to slur, and if he had been lying about how drunk he was that should have happened earlier.

“I like the summer okay.” Dean shrugged, his eyes playing over the other man’s features. Zack’s face was full of emotions, he didn’t try to hide what he was feeling from the world. There was an openness to him that made it more difficult to think that Zack was a creature. Most creatures were very closed, and even though Dean was certain that Zack was hiding something from him, it was difficult to picture that being the secret. “Why do you think short nights would be difficult?” he finally managed to ask.

“Well, you know, less time to walk around in the dark.” Zack sat up suddenly then, and almost knocked his drink over again. The glass was in his hand before it could topple over the edge of the table, reflexes so ingrained that Dean hadn’t even thought about moving, and he carefully placed it upright again. “Woah,” Zack gasped. “Not good.”

Looking over at Zack in exasperation, Dean pulled the glass away from him and chuckled. “I think you’ve had enough,” he said, amused as hell at the way Zack was wobbling in his seat. “Seriously dude, if you plan on working tomorrow then you’ve got to stop.”

“I have to work tomarrrrrrrrow!” Zack laughed out, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. The long column of throat bared innocently in front of Dean was unsettling. He sucked in a breath and his tongue flicked out across lips that were suddenly dry. If Zack was a creature, if he was hiding that from Dean, then he would never allow himself to be so exposed, right? “I shouldnna have drunk… skunk…” he trailed off with a soft shake of his head, ginger waves rustling gently. For a brief moment, Dean wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through that hair. Was it coarse, or silky? He could tell it was thick, but would it stick in his fingers, or would it be easy to card them through. How would Zack feel if Dean grabbed him by the hair and…

“I’m calling you a cab,” Dean laughed nervously, trying to blot the images from his mind as he wondered what it was about Zack that was still bothering him. It was difficult to spend time with Zack and not feel a bit protective of him. There was no way he was a leviathan, because Dean and Sam would have been fighting for their life in the hospital if he was. Instead of getting more answers, Dean was finding himself with more questions.

“Naw, I’ll… yeah, you should, no, I could…” Zack sighed. “So compli… comple… com… hard.” Opening his eyes, he looked right at Dean. “I should go.”

It was as though all the alcohol hit him at once. “Can you walk?” Dean asked as he finished his own drink, prepared to help him as needed. He had an intense desire to touch Zack, as if that would provide some sort of answer, and Dean wasn’t willing to explore that curiosity in depth.

“Prob not.” Zack reached into a pocket and pulled out a phone, fumbling it onto the table. It had a bright white case with swirls and what looked to be some sort of anime design on the back. Blinking at it a few times, Zack finally poked at it and frowned. “Shit,” he whispered. “No, not that one.” There was more poking and Dean snorted as Zack finally placed the phone face down with a groan. “I can’t rememb the dial.” Now Dean could fully see the picture. It was a close up of some sort of animal person with silver hair, golden eyes and dog ears, wearing white clothes.

Tearing his gaze from the weird case, Dean raised his eyebrows at Zack. “What dial?”

“Taxi.” Zack’s hand was still on the phone, as though he was certain he had to keep hold of it.

“The taxi service is in your phone?” He wondered how many times Zack had had to call for a taxi.

“Sort of,” he said with a shrug.

“Why don’t I take you home?” Dean offered. The words were out before he’d thought much about them, and Zack snapped his eyes to look at Dean. The other man was surprised, at least as much as Dean was, but there was also hurt swirling through the brown gaze. “What?” he asked, wondering why he was upset that Zack seemed unhappy by his offer.

“You don’t wanna do that, you wanna my home,” he said with a pout, his full bottom lip turning down. For a moment, Dean was focused on that bottom lip, the way it shone in the dim lights, the way it looked lickable.

“Why would you say that Zack?” he asked as he wrenched his gaze from the lip to the eyes. What the hell was he thinking?

“You jus go, I’ll be fine,” Zack said with a vague wave of his hand. “I’ll find home.”

Even though he was drunk off his ass, Zack was trying to evade Dean. Did he think Dean wouldn’t notice? He’d begun to relax around Zack, begun to think he might have been wrong about what he was feeling, but now he was suspicious all over again. “You’re worried about me finding your home. You *do* realize I can get that information any time I want, right?” Dean attempted to apply logic and see if that helped or not.

“Oh.” Zack sighed. “Yeah, is right.” He tried to stand up and Dean was out of his seat with his arms around Zack just before he fell on the ground.

“Hey now,” Dean said with a laugh. “That was stupid.” Now he was touching Zack, and all he could gather from the experience was that Zack was solid, and very warm. Or Dean was warm, under the circumstances, it was hard to tell.

“Jus wanna out,” Zack mumbled. He tilted his head towards Dean and took a deep breath. “Smell good.”

“Sure.” That was a new line, nothing he’d ever heard before. He moved to put Zack back in his chair but the other man shook his head and made a sort of… whining noise. “What?”

“Out,” Zack grumbled, struggling in his arms a little. “Wanna leave.”

A hand was on Dean’s shoulder and when he turned to look he saw the bartender, who was offering him a piece of paper with a smirk. “Here, his address,” she said. “It’s pretty close, I drew you a map with the directions. Take him home and your tab is paid. He doesn’t usually get plastered, but when he does he can be a handful.”

Dean took the paper and raised his eyebrows. “Why are you paying my tab for this?” he asked.

“None of *our* boys want to take his drunk ass home,” she laughed. “He gets grabby.” With a wink and a smirk, she headed back to the bar.

Grabby. Fantastic. Dean looked at the paper. According to it, he really was close to Zack’s home. Hopefully he’d find something useful in the house, since Zack was doing a very good job of evading Dean.


	10. Zack

Drinking to excess was bad for me. It wasn’t something I did often, so I didn’t have much of a tolerance. Unlike humans, I didn’t slowly get drunk. For some reason it was as though my body refused to recognize that I was drinking until everything registered at once and I was smashed. Sometimes I got a heads up that it was happening and I would pay and leave. I don’t really like calling a cab or being driven home.

The thought of Dean driving me home bothered me for two reasons. The first was I didn’t want him knowing where I lived. I was a private person and my house was my safe space. Secondly, I didn’t want to leave my car at Johnny T’s, because tomorrow I’d have to have someone take me here first thing in order to pick it up. Unfortunately, the main problem with me was my inability to focus and be coherent. Higher thought wasn’t a possibility.

“Let’s go,” Dean said, and I struggled to get out of his arms. I didn’t want to be here, I didn’t want to be taken care of, and I didn’t want Dean to murder me in my own home.

“No, you… I…” It was impossible for me to focus on much of anything. His arms were strong, warm, and firmly holding onto me even though I was squirming. It was distracting. “Home,” I finally sighed, relaxing almost entirely in defeat.

“That’s right, you’re going home.” He was heading for the door and all my struggling had amounted to nothing, so I let him guide me. There was no getting away from him, he was going to be walking around my house and I’d be lucky to make it through the night.

“You don’t hava feel ‘sponsible fer me,” I mumbled, taking another deep breath and Dean’s scent caught my attention again. He smelled of heavy musk, leather and alcohol, and it stirred all kinds of things inside of me. Sometimes it wasn’t a good thing to have enhanced scent.

“I don’t, I’m getting a free bar tab,” Dean said with a light chuckle. That would be great, if that was the only reason he was doing this. I knew better.

“Don’t wan me in yer car,” I mumbled, but then we were outside and I wondered how that had happened so fast.

“Why not?” he pried and I blinked at a car that was definitely *not* the Impala.

“Where’s yer car?” I asked in confusion. Didn’t he call it his “baby”? This was not even black.

“This *is* my car,” he said. With more force than was necessary, he opened the passenger side door and pushed me inside. I fell down on the seat and tried to pull myself in. There was no way my demise was going to be graceful.

“Oh.” I blinked up at him when I managed to actually sit. Frowning as I looked at the pile of baby clothes in the back seat I shook my head. “Donnt seem like yer car.”

“Well it is,” he snarled, closing the door firmly and I jumped. He was not happy with this car. I couldn’t blame him, it wasn’t exactly pretty and I’d heard his was a lovely thing.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as he got into his side and started the car. My face was flushed and I leaned back in the seat with a sigh. He was so touchy.

“It’s fine,” he said, pulling out of the parking lot and glancing at a piece of paper. 

I knew the route to my house, and he was right on it. There was something relaxing to realize you were going to die soon. It calmed the heart and made all kinds of things not matter anymore. For instance, now I was wondering if I should kiss him. I bet it would be amazing. Even if he stopped it as soon as it started, I was willing to believe that he’d be hard muscles, but soft lipped. Would he start kissing back before he remembered he didn’t want me? There was no way I was living, so would it be worth it to go out with a bang? There would be a wonderful feeling to know I’d managed to kiss him, like millions of teenagers thought about kissing celebrities, this was my terrible idea. With a hum, I closed my eyes and relaxed entirely in the seat. Being drunk really was a bad idea.


	11. Sam

It was no surprise that Dean hadn’t returned by the time Sam got to the motel. It was a surprise when an hour passed and he still didn’t come home. Sam wasn’t idle, he typed notes that he emailed to himself, wrote a few things in his online journal, and finally hand wrote some ideas he had about the job. He would have made a hell of a lawyer, if he’d been given the chance.

It was almost eleven when he finally began tapping his pen on the table in the room. It wasn’t like Dean to be out like this, unless he had some sort of lead, or he was having sex. Sam felt pretty good about the ghost, and he wanted to get a start on figuring out who she was in the morning. There was still a chance he’d be back. If it reached two, he was gone for the night.

His real worry were the girls he’d talked to in the library. They’d been interested in going to the cemetery that night, and Sam didn’t want to risk their lives. He’d tried to talk them out of going, but they both didn’t really put much stock in the ghost story. Sam had intended to go with Dean to the cemetery just in case, but Dean wasn’t back.

Glancing at his watch, he realized that he’d been debating calling Dean for twenty minutes. With a sigh, he dialed his phone and waited for a few rings before Dean answered the call. “Bonham,” Dean said and Sam heard a male giggle in the background.

“Bonfen… Benham… heh,” the voice said and Sam’s brow furrowed. Dean didn’t usually pick up men.

“Dean, are you still at the bar?” he asked.

“No,” Dean said. “I’m driving. What’s up?” He sounded all business, so Sam just shrugged and went with it.

“I think we need to hit a cemetery tonight. There are a couple of girls that may or may not be testing the ghosts curse.” In as few sentences as possible, he explained what he knew so far.

“I can’t get out yet,” Dean said, and there was another chuckle in the background. “I’m taking Zack home, he’s drunk off his ass.”

“You’re…. taking the coroner home?” Sam asked, eyebrows raising high. What was going on? Had Dean found a different lead?

“Free booze if I do. How long do we have?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know,” Sam said with a deep breath and a sigh. Even free booze didn’t fully explain what was going on. Dean must have found something interesting out. Either that or he’d finally decided to try sex with a guy. If that was true, Sam couldn’t deny that Zack was good looking, but he felt that in this case, Dean should wait another day to explore his sexuality. “Maybe, an hour or less? Look, just drop him off and come back. We can head to the cemetery before something nasty happens.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said, and then hung up on Sam.

“Okay,” Sam said, looking down at the phone for a moment. “See you soon.” It wasn’t often that Dean just hung up, and Sam was worried that Dean wasn’t taking him seriously. The last thing Sam wanted was another victim because of a booty call.


	12. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I fucked up and forgot Friday. I'm super sorry about that, and promise an extra update this week. Until then, enjoy today's chapter!

Zack’s driveway was long and wound down a hill and around to the left. It ended in front of a two car garage, with asphalt to the right in a large car port area, two different tree’s making informal parking spots. If Dean had to guess, six cars could easily be parked here, without even heading up the driveway. There was a rock wall about knee height along the left side of the driveway, holding up a large garden. Bright green burst out from it, multiple different types of daffodils blooming in clumps, some small purple flowers dotting the mix. It was all neatly tended and Dean could tell that there were more flowers to come.

At the end of the flower garden were the rock stairs that led up to the house itself. On the other side of the stairs was another round garden, a large crabapple tree growing from it. Several bushy plants were around the base of the tree itself, and a ground cover with dark green leaves was spread out almost entirely through the area. Along the top of the rock stairs was another line of the green ground cover, lining the path itself.

Dean parked next to the stairs and stared up at the house. He couldn’t tell how much of the house and surrounding property was Zack’s. To the right of the house was a large lawn, a creek and beyond that he couldn’t see in the dark. As he’d driven down the drive, he had been able to see a large building to the right, surrounded by another large bit of yard. It was hard to judge if it had been a small cottage, or a barn, and although the properties he’d passed had seemed large, none had seemed quite so big.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” he wondered out loud as he looked at the crabapple. Surely the roots would eventually grow through the house, right?

“Wha?” Zack mumbled, and Dean turned his head to see him opening his eyes and blinking at the house. “Home,” he said with a nod.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Home. Tell me you have your keys on you.” He hoped Zack had his keys on him, a fact he should have checked before leaving the bar. It was better to check now than to make their way up the stairs and have an impromptu dance to search pockets.

“Keys.” Zack patted his jacket and then patted his pants, then nodded. “Yes, keys.” He sighed and leaned against the door, his hand slipping into his jacket pocket and staying there.

Shaking his head, Dean reached over to slip his hand into the pocket, fingers twitching Zack’s hand away as he found the keys and began tugging them out. Zack mumbled something more and then pulled his hand out, the keys falling from his hand as Dean held on to them.

There were four keys of the same design that looked like they could be house related and a whole ring that looked like they weren’t. Dangling from it was a keychain of that same anime character that was on Zack’s phone case. A man with silver hair, dog ears and a long white tail wearing white clothes. Whoever he was, Zack sure liked him. Dean figured one of the four keys were for the door, so he got out of the car and moved around to the passenger side.

Getting Zack out of the car was not fun. Zack was lying against the door, and when Dean opened it he practically fell out. Very quickly, Dean had his hands full of Zack and he was trying to drag the other man out of the car. Groaning, Zack opened his eyes and looked at Dean.

“No wanna,” he grumbled. Dean shook his head and glared.

“No choice, you drunk ass.” He hauled Zack out of the car and placed him upright, closing the door with his foot before beginning the walk up the stairs. Dean was surprised by Zack’s weight. He hadn’t thought Zack was much more than skin and bones, but he was heavy, and Dean could feel the muscles under his hands. It was possible he’d gained all that from working in the garden, but it was more likely he went to a gym.

Getting up each step was an epic project, the first few were small stairs and Dean had to walk up then pull Zack onto the stair before he could move to the next one. The last three though were pretty big pieces of stone that made maneuvering much easier. There was also a metal railing that Dean used to lean against when the occasion warranted. Once they were to the door, he held the screen door open with his hip and leaned Zack against the other as he began testing the keys. The third he tried slid the bolt open, and the fourth worked on the handle. He managed to get them in up the last little step into the house by pretty much pulling Zack inside by his pant loops.

“You’re dead weight,” Dean grumbled and Zack chuckled.

“Dead,” he nodded.

“Right.” Then Dean heard the tell tale beep of a home security alarm. His eyes scanned the wall and it was right against the wall to the left. “Hey, turn that thing off.”

Zack swiveled his head around and shook it slightly. “Can’t.”

“Why not? It’s gonna go off.”

“Can’t feel hands.”

“What’s the pass?” he grumbled as he closed the door and locked it.

“You’re gonna?” Zack asked and Dean nodded. He didn’t want the police showing up now. “Fine. One, four, seven, zero.”

Punching the numbers quickly, Dean breathed a sigh of relief as it turned off. “Good.” From the front door, there was another door directly in front of him, a step up and a door to the right, and the kitchen to the left. Taking two steps towards the kitchen, he saw a long hallway to the right that seemed to more or less run the length of the house. It almost looked like a maze from here. “Where the hell do I go?” he asked, looking at the deadweight in his arms.

“Down hall, bed,” Zack said. One of his hands lifted to wrap around Dean’s waist and he hummed in pleasure. “Strong.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, taking the steps down the hall slowly. The house was big. He passed a bathroom and an office to the right, and there was an archway that might have led to the living room but there was no good way to check that out with Zack in his arms. Along the left side of the wall were beautiful display cases with glass doors and a metal pull that looked like it probably opened stairs to the attic. At the end of the hall was a pocket door that opened to reveal the master bedroom.

Dean felt a little out of place in such a large house. He couldn’t imagine what a single dude could want with so much space. There was no evidence of children or a spouse, and although the furniture that Dean had seen so far was nice, there wasn’t much of it. Two of the three display cabinets had been empty.

Fumbling for the switch, Dean finally was able to shed some light on the bedroom and the first thing he saw was a huge four poster bed in the center of the room. It was up against the wall with wrought iron posts and a full canopy. Draping down were curtains of heavy, rich brown fabric.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean mumbled, looking it over. Zack was being no help anymore, so Dean dragged him over to the bed and pulled the curtain open enough to pull Zack onto the mattress. To the left of the bed was a nightstand of light wood with a single lamp on it. Further to the left were two small doors that looked to be for a closet. “There, go to sleep.”

Whining, Zack shuffled his feet a few times and glanced at Dean. “Shoes,” he mumbled, eyes pleading with Dean. With a sigh, Dean grabbed the shoes and pulled them off. “Jacket?” That was more difficult to take off and involved twisting Zack around a few times before he managed to get it tossed onto a bench that was between the two closet doors. “Thanks,” Zack mumbled into the bed, turning enough to look up at Dean.

There was something that just kept bothering Dean when it came to Zack. A niggling sensation in the pit of his stomach that made him not fully trust the man, and made all his instincts stand at attention. There was an innocence to Zack that grated on Dean’s nerves, made him want to tell Zack to be careful. It also made Dean want to wrap this up and leave as soon as possible, so he didn’t destroy Zack’s life. Unfortunately, there was also a desire to stay, to figure out everything there was to know about Zack, to pick him apart completely and learn every secret. No one else had ever caused so many complex and opposing emotions in Dean before and he hated it.

“Yeah,” Dean finally said. His voice was rough with emotion, but he didn’t even dare try to figure out what emotion that was. Wrenching his gaze away from Zack, he pulled the curtain closed and turned towards the door. “Goodnight Zack.”

Before he could actually step away, Zack rushed up from the bed, flailed in the curtains until he fell into Dean’s arms, and then shoved his face close to Dean. Before Dean had managed to really register that he had his arms filled with Zack again, Zack pushed against the ground and pressed his lips against Dean’s own, kissing him fiercely. For a moment, Dean just blinked, holding perfectly still, so startled that he couldn’t fully process what was happening. Zack took the opportunity to lean completely against him, arms wrapping around Dean’s neck. The scent of beer was heavy in the air between them, and Dean finally began to move, hands lifting and touching Zack’s back. He was sure he was about to push Zack away, but before he got the chance, Zack moved away himself, tossing his body towards the bed. Zack fell gracelessly into the sheets, curtains tangling around him again, but he didn’t move to correct the issue.

Dean just stared at Zack, watched the moisture fill his eyes as he closed them tightly. Zack pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. “Night. Reset alarm?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, taking a breath to try to steady his heart, which had stopped beating for a moment and was now trying to make up for it by pounding through his chest. He’d never been kissed by another man before, and although Dean had been warned that Zack got grabby, he hadn’t expected Zack to kiss him. Dean was glad that he hadn’t kissed back at least, because he wouldn’t have wanted to lead the man on. “Night.”

He was nearly to the front door when he realized he’d wanted to search the house. Glancing at his watch, he knew he didn’t have a lot of time, so he quickly looked around. The fridge was the first thing his eyes settled on and he opened it curiously, praying for no people parts. In that regard at least, he was granted relief. There were three gallons of milk, several bottles of home made soda water and eight different flavors of syrup. There was also cold cuts, sliced cheese and a ton of vegetables. The freezer had some popsicles, two bags of refreezable ice blocks and a tray of normal ice cubes, plus two microwaveable dinners. Ridiculously boring.

The dining room was on the other side of the kitchen, and the living room began at the edge of the dining room. It was a long room that ended in picture windows to the front and side. There were bookshelves all over, a rock wall with a fireplace and some picture frames showing a man, woman and a younger boy that looked to maybe be Zack as a kid. There were also several pictures of a younger Zack graduating from both High School and college. Zack looked fairly happy in all the pictures, and that just made Dean shake his head in confusion. Why was Dean’s suspicious nature bothering him so much?

He turned from the rock wall to head out, past the small sun porch beyond sliding glass doors that was between the dining room and the living room, and set Zack’s keys on a counter. Then he reset the alarm and headed out of the house, locking at least the handle. From out here, he let his eyes adjust and he thought that it was likely that the building he’d seen was on Zack’s property, and also was a barn.

He pulled out a flashlight as he headed in that direction. There was so much land, it must take Zack forever to mow, and as he neared the other side of the driveway, he saw a bridge over the stream, and in the distance he could see a fairly large, round, lake. Dean had no idea how much past the bridge was Zack’s property, there was no way to know without asking Zack himself, and there was a fairly dense forest over there. The trees were old, and tall, circling around most of the lake, and Dean shook his head to remind himself he was on limited time.

By the time he reached the barn, he felt wrong trespassing on the land. He couldn’t really place why he felt that way, but then his phone rang and a deer jumped up to run into the woods close by. Taking a breath again, he opened the phone and put it to his ear.

“Dean? Seriously, what’s taking so long?” It was Sam, and he didn’t sound amused.

“Big house Sammy,” Dean said. He was a little annoyed that he hadn’t found anything incriminating so far. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I want to check out this barn.”

“Dean, there could be two young women getting killed right now,” Sam said. Dean could hear the anxiety in Sam’s voice and it made him pause. Looking at the door in front of him he frowned as he debated just leaving.

“I’m right here Sammy, I can’t walk away,” he finally said, reaching for the handle to the barn. As far as locks to pick, it was easy, and the door slid up silently. He didn’t open it far, just enough to slip inside, turning on the flashlight. “Look, I gotta go, I’ll call you again in a minute.” He was here, and he had to know. The curiosity would eat at him if he didn’t. Closing the phone on Sam’s further protests, he put it in his pocket and shined the light carefully around.

He was looking at another morgue, perfectly set up with lockers and examination slabs. Several different school skeletons were hanging around. Along one wall was a huge dry erase board, clean and empty. There were also chairs scattered around, instrument trays and cabinets. It was hard to determine if he felt disturbed or fascinated by this. Walking over to one of the lockers, he opened it to find it devoid of both dead body and cold air. Shaking his head at his worry, he headed further into the barn, relaxing as he did so. In the far back, by another door, were several art easel’s set up, each with a cloth over a canvas. There were also stacks of paintings in the corner and trays with paint supplies by each easel.

Flipping through the paintings, all he saw were landscapes of the property, which must be gorgeous in spring if even half of what he saw were accurate. Dropping the cloth over the last canvas he sighed and swore. There was nothing incriminating here, or in the house. For all intents and purposes, Zack was a normal, sane citizen of Sagamore Hills Township. Crap.

Dean left the barn, irritated as hell. He closed and locked it up, went to his car, and started driving. It was time to see a man about a ghost.


	13. Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing a dual post today. I was originally wanting to spread it through the weekend, but personal life took over and so you're getting both of them at once. Have a great weekend!

By the time Dean got back to the motel, Sam was a pacing wreck. He’d warned Dean to come back quickly, had *told* him he needed to return, and Dean had gotten fucking stuck on Zack. Rounding on his brother when the door opened, he grabbed him by the jacket and pushed him down onto one of the beds, closing the door with his foot.

“What took you so long Dean?” he snapped with a glare.

“I was busy,” Dean said, returning the glare. “What’s your problem?”

“My *problem* is that we have a case and you’re off chasing tail!” Sam knew that wasn’t right, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was close enough to the truth for him.

“I was *not* chasing tail. Seriously, what’s your beef?”

“My beef is that I called you to tell you how important this was, and instead of listening to me, you went on a trip.”

“And now you’re delaying us further Sam, so let’s go.” Dean got off the bed, brushing Sam’s hands off of him and headed for the door. Sam pointed at the police scanner he had on the table, fury in every movement.

“It’s too late. There’s been another murder,” he said, voice flat. He’d just met the two girls that day, and he’d managed to fail them. Even though he wasn’t sure if it would have made much of a difference, a part of him was pissed at himself for not going without Dean. It wasn’t like he couldn’t hot wire a car, but he’d been expecting Dean to come right back. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home so you can redress and we can get our asses out there.”

“Shit,” Dean said, shaking his head. There was a touch of actual sorrow in his voice. “Well, we know the coroner isn’t involved.”

“We already knew that Dean,” Sam said. He took in a deep breath to stop himself from smacking Dean and his obsessive compulsive behavior. “He had solid alibi’s for the other two murders and this is shaping up to be a ghost, remember?”

“Yeah, but he could have been controlling them. Honestly,” Dean grinned. “I’m pretty sure he’d fall over if he tried to do anything like that, the guy is seriously a wimp.”

“Just…. get changed, will you?” Sam asked. He motioned to the suit on the bed and sat down at the table with a sigh.

“I’ve got to shower first,” Dean said, glancing down at his pants.

“Why?”

“Zack spilled his beer on me.” Heading towards the bathroom he called out, “Did they call us yet?”

“No,” Sam said. “But I expect a call…” and he paused, because his phone was ringing. “Hello?”

“Detective Page?” The voice was the same as the police officer they’d talked to earlier that day.

“Yes, Officer Vale, what can I do for you?” Sam had always been good with names.

“I know it’s late, but we’ve got another body, thought you and your partner would like to come take a look.” He sounded uncertain, upset. That was pretty normal, all things considered.

“Of course. Where are you?”

“Northfield Cemetery, corner of Valley View and Old Route 8, do you need directions?”

He quickly wrote down the directions and then closed the phone. “That was the call,” he said as Dean came out of the shower, towel wrapped loosely around his hips. The handprint from Castiel was still strikingly obvious and currently it was bright red on Dean’s dark skin. “Get dressed.”

“I’m on it,” Dean said, and Sam turned around so his brother could have some privacy.

“What did *you* learn?” Sam asked. He hoped that at least Dean got something useful out of the trip.

“Nothing much. Just the sort of rumors you hear in small towns, pretty normal stuff, and that Zack seems perfectly normal. Except he went to work in the cemetery when he was a teenager and went through foster care. I suppose he could be anyone.”

“That’s all?” Sam shook his head in exasperation. “Dude, you were so late.”

“He seems normal, and he gets grabby when he’s drunk,” Dean said, pausing for a moment. “And I think he’s scared of me.”

“Why?” Sam turned around and watched his brother fumble with his tie.

“I haven’t figured that out yet. You would think that if he knew who we were he’d have called the cops on it, or called the FBI. He hasn’t done that so I have to assume he doesn’t know. What I do know is that he’s got an enormous property with a barn set up like a morgue with paintings in the back. If he was a Leviathan he’d have tried to eat us by now, he acts vulnerable when drunk, and he…” Dean finished the tie and trailed off. It was obvious that there was something more he wanted to say, but he didn’t. “I don’t know why,” he said as he looked up at Sam, and Sam knew that wasn’t what he’d been about to say.

“You still think there’s something weird about him?” Sam asked. Dean generally had good instincts, but everything about Zack seemed to point to normal person not monster.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, sitting down and putting on his shoes. “There’s still something that bothers me. I’ll figure it out, I always do.”

“Right.” Giving up trying to understand what was bothering Dean, Sam got up and held open the door. When Dean followed he said, “Don’t let it get you killed Dean. I need you.”

“I know you do,” Dean grinned at him. “You always need me.”


	14. Zack

Drunk dreams sucked. I vowed never to get drunk again. Every time I had drunk dreams I vowed that, because they were so horrible. Tonight I was running from the hunter that had killed my parents and tried to kill me. I was an adult in this dream, running as fast as I could, breath hard to catch and body aching with the pressure of running for so long.

Real life wasn’t like a dream. In actual fact, I’d been asleep in bed that night, and woke when my mother started screaming. Holding my stuffed bear, I had slipped out of bed, rubbing my sleepy eyes as I walked into the hallway. There was my mother, being stabbed from behind, red splashing over the walls and my face. It was hot, and I couldn’t understand why this was happening. Eyes going wide, I looked up at the man who had stabbed her, older with dark hair and a grizzled beard. I had run to my mother, screaming and crying, shaking her and begging her to wake up.

There were noises from the master bedroom. My father was yelling, and I saw him fighting the man. When he saw me in the hallway, my father had fought harder, shifting enough to give himself a power boost, but it hadn’t been enough. He did manage to leave the hunter with slash marks across his face. If I was the type to get revenge I would never have been able to mistake who had killed my family.

Our family had integrated into human society. To this day I had no idea if they were hunting humans, or eating like I did now. They probably weren’t very strong, and who knew how the hunters had found us. That was a hunter’s job, and they were damn good at it. At the time of the assault, I was ten.

I had screamed out to my father and run to him but the hunter had gotten in the way. As a child, I had no way to know how to react. I should have run, I could have fought. Instead I had flailed my arms around and bit at the hunter with blunt, human teeth. I didn’t even know how to control my monster yet. My fingers had raked across his skin and he’d plunged the knife deep into me.

The only thing that had saved me was that I twisted and lay limp right away, surprise on my face. The knife slid out of me and I fell to the ground, barely able to breathe. The hunter had moved away then, as I felt my body get cold, floor under me soaked with blood.

“Jesus, what did you do?” I heard someone say.

“What needed to be done. They’re dead, now they won’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“That was a kid, just a child.”

“Children grow up into adults who kill, you know that. Now let’s get out of here already, you finished downstairs?”

“Yeah… it looks like…” and the voices didn’t mean anything anymore because they were fading away.

When the police came to the house a little while later they found me bleeding out. I’d been given transfusions, I’d been patched up, and I was processed into the system. Even though I was young, I knew what to eat because my parents had drilled the information into me ever since I’d been five. I knew the stages of decomposition, I knew not to take from anything that was embalmed because that destroyed anything nutritional.

They had called the attack on my house a burglary gone wrong. Furniture was destroyed, everything worth money had been stolen, and even though I’d worked with a sketch artist, they’d never found the people who’d destroyed my life. Eventually, I had stopped asking them to try.

I’d snuck out of every foster house to get food, earning me reprimands and groundings, even the occasional beating. Eventually I’d ended up here, in a small town with foster parents who actually cared. Over time, I’d gotten close to them, and even though they weren’t my parents, I had come to care a great deal for them. Asking to work at the cemetery had taken a lot of courage, but I’d finally been allowed. That made it easier to get meals because people talked about who had died and when. I got better at picking locks, and sneaking around. Finding things to eat became a routine, instead of a fear induced nightmare.

Unfortunately this wasn’t real life, or perhaps fortunately because I wasn’t watching my parents die, because I was just running from the man with slashes down his face. He was laughing at me, calling me back to him, telling me how I was never going to get away. Eventually he would catch up to me, I knew, and then his knife would slide into my body and kill me. I died in this dream over and over again, no end to the laughing or the running until I finally managed to wake myself up. Reoccurring nightmares were horrible and this one had haunted me my whole life.

I woke with a start, heart hammering in my chest, eyes wet with tears. There was a loud noise worming into my head, and I held back the urge to puke. Room spinning, I reached into my pocket to pull out my phone, recognizing the number for the police after I stared at it for a while. Shit. Another murder, I was a mess, and I was bound to see the Winchesters again. If only they’d managed to take care of the ghost. Then I could have slept the night through.

Sighing, I carefully managed to sit up and accept the call. There was no time to delay, work was calling.


	15. Sam

The cemetery was crawling with cops when Sam and Dean arrived at the scene. After showing their badges they were pointed in the direction of the body. There was only one, which was a relief but also not, because it was Bethany that had died and Samantha was bound to be eaten with guilt over this. They hadn’t listened to him, they’d come out here, and now one of them was dead. Samantha had his number, Sam hoped she used it.

“Here’s our newest victim,” Officer Vale said, nodding at Sam and Dean. Sam came closer and squatted next to Bethany. She looked terrified. “Bethany Young, seventeen. We have no idea why she was out here tonight, but judging by the footprints around her there was someone else here. We’re taking pictures of the prints right now.”

“Seems to be the same sort of death?” Dean asked, looking around. Sam did as well, eyes finding the footprints that led away from the body and deeper into the cemetery.

“Far as we can tell right now.” Officer Vale nodded at Dean and pointed off down the road. “We’ve called Zack Fawks, he should be on his way any minute.”

“Fat chance,” Dean muttered and Sam snorted as he stood up.

“I’m going to look around,” Sam said. “I’ll be careful,” he said to Officer Vale, who closed his mouth and nodded at Sam.

“You don’t think Zack’ll show?” Officer Vale asked as he turned to Dean.

“Just call it a hunch.”

The voices became background noise as Sam followed the footsteps in the mud. They led to a pathway, then to a scuffled mess of gravel before ending in front of an old grave.

“Georgina Saint Claire” the headstone read. “Born 1872, Died 1902 May She Find Peace In The Grace Of God”

Given the circumstances, Sam was fairly certain she hadn’t found peace with anyone. Pulling out his notebook, he wrote both her name as well as the birth and death dates. It was unusual that there wasn’t also day and month on the stone, but he was still hopeful that he’d be able to narrow down the ghost based on that information.

Hearing a step behind him, he turned to see Dean walking up. “This our girl?” he asked nonchalantly.

“I don’t know for a fact yet, but this is where the girls walked to,” Sam said, nodding at the grave.

“Girls plural?” Dean inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I think she came out here with her friend Samantha.”

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

“No, like Samantha, Sam?” There was a heavy edge of humor to his voice and Sam rolled his eyes as he turned to look at Dean.

“Not me, she had a friend in the library, and her name was Samantha. I gave you the basics already, have you forgotten?” When Dean was trying to be funny at Sam’s expense it was usually terrible jokes. He sighed and shook his head.

“Coincidence?” Dean asked with a laugh.

“Who knows?” He glanced at the grave. Currently there were no cold spots, nothing chilly or abnormal at all. For the moment, the ghost was gone. “I just talked to them a few hours ago. Samantha has my card, so I hope she calls.”

“Hope she does, I want to know what she saw.” Dean turned back towards the road and his brow furrowed. “Now that’s fascinating,” he said. Sam followed Dean’s gaze and saw Zack climbing out of a police car, wobbling heavily, holding onto the door as he did.

“Should he be walking?” Sam asked with a shake of his head. Holding a travel mug in his hands, which Zack sipped at each time he paused, he walked a few steps before stopping to sway violently.

“No,” Dean snapped out, walking towards the other man with quick strides, back stiff and straight. Taking in the way Dean carried himself as he walked, the hands clenching and unclenching every few moments, and the quickness that he descended on Zack, it was obvious that Dean was very unhappy. Was it that Zack was out of bed after all the work he’d done to get him there, or was he wondering if Zack had faked how drunk he’d been? With Dean it was hard to know exactly, and Sam smirked as he caught up with his brother. He looked forward to seeing the two of them interact. Hopefully he could figure out what it was that made Dean so fixated on Zack.


	16. Zack

Walking while mostly still drunk was not easy, and I swayed alarmingly, one hand flying out to grab hold of the nearest tree while the other clutched my coffee mug tightly. It took a moment for me to get steady enough to attempt walking again. I asked myself what the hell I was doing here, but I knew the answer to that already. I hated to make someone else deal with something I’d already dipped my hands in.

“This way Zack,” Greg said as he held up the caution tape for me. Greg was a sweetie, and I let go of the tree to step towards him, stumbling down a little hill and right into a vehicle parked on the side of the path. Cursing under my breath, I put my free hand on the hood and took in a few, steadying, breaths. It would help immensely if the world stopped moving.

“Sorry,” I called out, the loud noise grating inside my head. “Just a moment.” Just a moment so my brain could go from a liquid to a solid.

“Just how much did you drink?” Greg laughed and I shook my head. Bad move, very bad move, that made the world tilt sickeningly. “Do you want me to take you back home? I can get someone else to come out here.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine,” I said, more softly this time because my head was pounding so badly I didn’t want to be louder than necessary.

“The hell you will,” a dark voice said nearby. My heart leapt in my chest and I lifted my eyes to see Dean walking over to me. Damn, he was still so fucking hot. I gave a small sigh and closed my eyes. Maybe if I didn’t look at him he would disappear? “What are you doing here exactly?” he demanded and it was funny somehow, that he’d even ask.

“Um… I have a job?” I said with a small snort. He’d been in my house. He’d taken me to my home, practically carried me to bed, he’d even reset my house alarm. A part of me was still surprised by that. It was becoming difficult to separate the Dean I knew as a Hunter, and this Dean, who was worried about me, or at least pretending to be.

“You don’t when you’re this plastered,” Dean growled, and it was almost right against my skin. My eyes flew open and I stared deep into his bottomless green eyes, his body so near I could feel the heat from his skin, could start counting the freckles on his nose.

“Close!” I gasped as I tried to calm my heart, which was now beating in my throat, and he frowned.

“You need to get back to your bed. You can take a look at this in the morning or something.” It was wrong of me to think his growly voice was cute, but I couldn’t help it.

Only then I realized what he’d said, and I blinked up at him, shaking my head a little. No one told me what to do but me. “Can’t. Important things to do.” Determined, I pushed myself off the car to head towards Greg, who was still holding the tape up, but now he had a small, confused, smile on his face.

Or, you know, I would have headed towards Greg, only I was so wobbly that I didn’t so much walk as fall forward. A strong arm slipped around my waist and caught me before I fell on the ground. Dean’s body was solid against mine, and I looked up, both hands holding onto his shoulders. In that moment, everything else disappeared. My face flushed and my breath was hard to catch. All I could see was Dean, all I could feel was his body, all my strength was his. I could not have imagined a worse torture, not even if he was the hunter in my dreams, chasing me until he killed me.

“You can’t stand. You can’t walk. You can hardly drink coffee, and you think you’ll do a proper autopsy?” Dean snapped, voice hard. That wrenched me right out of my daze and I frowned, trying to push away from Dean.

“Are you worried I’ll misdiagnose her death?” I asked stiffly. “Or are you worried I’ll miss some important clue for your investigation?”

“Either, both,” he said. Dean finally placed me upright and took a step back, letting me wobble in place for a moment before letting go. There was still a downslope, but I thought if I went slowly, I could get there with little incident. “I just don’t think you should be out here.”

“Preference heard,” I said grimly, turning my head away from him. “However I’ll be doing the full autopsy tomorrow, after I’ve had sleep, not tonight, while I’m stupid. Trust me, I won’t miss anything important to your *case*.” I spit the last word out more viciously than intended because honestly, there wasn’t likely to be anything new here than what they’d gotten from the other victims. Why the hell was he so upset anyway? If he wasn’t a Winchester I wouldn’t even think twice about telling him where to stick it, I wouldn’t be frightened of him. I knew my job, and I knew how to do it right.

“Your coffee,” Sam said, offering me my mug back. There was a small smile on his face and I took it with a nod.

“Thank you,” I said stiffly, drinking some of it. If there was mud on the rim I chose not to notice, it wasn’t like mud would kill me.

“Yeah, sure,” he said. I watched him look at his brother and then back at me. He was getting a show of some variety, I hope he enjoyed it.

“Fine. I’ll walk with you so you don’t kill yourself out there,” Dean said and I shrugged, taking a few steps.

“Nothing you have to worry about,” I muttered and Dean looked at me sharply.

“What?” he asked.

“I said nothing,” I spoke louder, even though it hurt to do so. I just wanted him gone now, because this day had turned into a nightmare and I was ready for it to be over.


	17. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Hi! I'm planning on changing my posting schedule so I'm posting on Monday, Wednesday and Friday now. I'm going to be posting TTTLM (my TW series that got massively huge) on Tuesdays and Thursdays! I hope you continue to enjoy. :D

For some reason Dean was irritated. Incredibly irritated, and he didn’t know why or what he was supposed to do about it. Watching Zack slowly be led to the crime scene made his fingers twitch. Watching him talk slowly and patiently with the cops made Dean want to scream. And when Zack finally sat down on the ground to examine the fingers of the victim, Dean just wanted to grab Zack by the arm and pull him up and into a car.

Sam was watching him like a hawk, as though Dean was acting completely out of character and had to be looked after. It wasn’t Dean’s fault that Zack got under his skin. A foot started tapping and it took a moment for Dean to realize that it was his own. He let out a breath when Zack pronounced time of death and began to stand up. Before he could flail around too much, Dean was right there, grabbing Zack’s arm with one of his own to haul Zack onto his feet. Those warm brown eyes of Zack’s caught in his own and color flooded to Zack’s cheeks.

“Thanks,” Zack mumbled before finally turning to look over at Officer Vale. “If you could get her to my rooms, I’d appreciate it. I’ll take a closer look in the morning.” Zack turned back to Dean. “You can let me go now,” he said, voice clipped.

Dropping Zack’s arm like it was fire, Dean stepped back and nodded at him. “Fine, but I’m sticking around until you’re in the car.” He’d never cared about someone else like this before, except for Sammy really, and it was really fucking with him.

“Thank you for your concern, *Officer*, but I’ll be fine,” Zack snapped and there it was again. That inflection that made Dean feel like Zack was mocking him. Combined with Zack’s brush off, it made Dean grit his teeth.

“You’ll be finely passed out on the ground in a moment,” Dean countered. What the hell was Zack’s problem? Did he become a mean drunk?

“No I won’t.” Zack stepped on a stone and slipped, falling forward onto the ground.

Dean wasn’t even conscious of moving, he was just suddenly there at Zack’s side, carefully picking the man up as he shook his head. “You’re going to kill yourself.” That or break something. 

“Stop that,” Zack snapped, eyes narrowing at Dean.

“What is your problem?” Dean finally asked and all he could see was pain in Zack’s gaze.

“You’d never be able to understand, so don’t try.”

“What on earth is so big I wouldn’t understand?” Dean asked. The more time he spent with Zack, the more confused he got. One moment the man was kissing him, the next he was shoving Dean away like he was garbage. Which Zack was the real Zack, the shy guy, the scared one, or the vicious?

“You don’t want to help me,” Zack spit out. “You’re just trying to befriend me, because you’re hoping you’ll learn something interesting. You aren’t worried I’m going to mess up your case, you just want me to think you are, so I’ll relax and let something slip. You’re sure there’s something, and let me tell you something about me,” he paused, voice low, leaning in close so he could look deep into Dean’s eyes. Dean wasn’t breathing, didn’t dare to move, he was caught in that gaze, trapped just as surely as any demon he’d set up. “You can’t learn my secrets that easily,” he said firmly before scrambling to his feet and walking away.

There was a pause before Dean was able to move again. “You think?” he finally asked as he stayed a few paces behind Zack, still watching for when he would fall next.

“Yes,” Zack said wearily.

He flashed a grin at Sammy, a quick one to say “I told you so”, but Sammy wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were fixed on Zack, brow furrowed. Dean’s grin faded as he looked back at Zack himself. He’d known there was something to learn here, Zack had just confirmed it.

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning then,” Dean said as he watched Zack carefully open the car door. He felt an uncommon amount of relief as Zack sat down.

“I guess so,” he said with a shake of his head. “Too bad.”

“And here I thought you’d be happy about that,” he said with an irresistible smile. It didn’t bother him to be charming. Zack sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I am, and I’m not. See you tomorrow Dean,” he finished and he closed the door.

He was still so irritated with Zack that it took him a few moments to realize that Zack had called him “Dean”. He frowned as he watched the car drive out of sight. “Did you call me Dean tonight?” he asked, glancing at his brother.

“No, why?” Sam asked as he walked up and stood next to Dean.

“He called me Dean.” Dean looked back at the red tail lights. If Zack knew who he was, why hadn’t he called the police?


	18. Zack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Zack has been the most fun I've ever had writing an OC in fanfiction.

Mornings were, by definition, the bane of my existence. The sun always shone, the clouds were always fluffy and white, and the birds always chirped happily. Today was no exception, it was instead, the rule. I hated mornings always, but today was particularly bad. I’d done just about everything wrong that I could have when it came to Dean Winchester the day before and I knew I was going to regret it today.

I’d never been good at reading people, but what the hell had my drunk mind been thinking the night before? I leaned against the counter with a sigh as I watched the coffee pot fill for the second time. The worst thing was that I couldn’t even remember what all I’d said to him. I remembered being angry, remembered snapping at him, but the exact words, no clue. I could have told him everything about myself.

It was probably time for me to put in my resignation and leave town. They’d only been here for one day and already I was pretty sure I was dead meat. There was no way I’d managed to convince Dean I was harmless, no way he was going to be inclined to think of me as just another human. I groaned and closed my eyes, resting my head on the counter.

“Watching it brew? You must have a killer of a headache,” Dean said snidely from behind me and I nearly jumped through the roof.

My head wobbled uncomfortably as I turned around sharply to look at him. My heart was pounding in my throat as I gasped for breath. “Wear bells!” I said in between one heart beat and the next.

“That would defeat the purpose of being silent,” Dean said. There was a smirk on his face that was very reminiscent of a pleased cat. It did not put me in a good frame of mind.

I closed my eyes again, happy to still be leaning on the counter because the room was moving a little unpleasantly. There must be a special place in hell for people like me who were attracted to men who also scared the shit out of them. “Yes, yes I suppose it would,” I managed to breathe out, somehow calming myself down at the same time. “What can I do for you two today?” I knew full well what they wanted, but I was still going to go through the motions.

“We’re just here for the full coroner’s report,” Sam said and I opened my eyes to look at him. Yes, much easier to do, look at Sam. He didn’t make my heart seize up in fear at the same time my pants got tight.

“Yes, of course, I’m just about done with the report. I can say though, that she has died the same way as the other two victims. I have not found anything else that might pertain to the case. I need the coffee before I can finish typing things up.” Then I turned to the machine and stared at the inky blackness like it would suddenly be done brewing. At least it smelled good, the rich aroma wafting up and tingling my nose. I loved coffee. Actually, I hated the taste of it, but I loved the effects it had on my body, and on mornings like this, it was a necessity.

“You know that but you’re not done?” Dean said, and I heard a foot tapping impatiently. “I think you know something you aren’t telling us.”

There were many things I wasn’t telling him, but that didn’t seem important. “I don’t have anything else to say about the circumstances surrounding this unfortunate young lady’s demise,” I said instead.

“Is that so?” Dean asked. Suddenly there was a body very close to me, warm heat all up my back and I knew it was Dean. He leaned in, face inches from my neck and said softly, “Well, I don’t believe that.”

“It’s the truth,” I whispered. I wanted to turn my head and look at him, but that would put me right against him and I wasn’t sure I could handle that again. My body was trembling, a desire to touch him almost as strong as the desire to run away. My fight or flight instincts seemed to be stuck on fuck or flight, and they hadn’t decided which one to go with.

“What are you keeping from us?” Dean whispered. His breath tickled the skin on my cheek now and there was a certainty in his voice. Once again I wondered what the hell I’d told him. “Because we already know all kinds of things I’m sure you didn’t want us to know.”

He wasn’t stabbing me with a silver knife though, so he hadn’t figured everything out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I whispered. “Please, I need to get back to work.” Was I begging? Yes, I was begging, and the worst thing was I wasn’t sure if I was begging him to kill me or to just bend me the fuck over. I was getting so turned on that I was tight in slacks. That had to be some sort of fucking record.

“Coffee isn’t done brewing, you aren’t leaving fresh coffee, are you?” He finally stepped back enough that I could turn to look at him, and that was a bad thing. I got caught in those gorgeous green eyes again.

“I… I have to go.” It was imperative that I got away from him. If he so much as touched me right now I wasn’t sure I could reign myself in. Never before had I known how incredibly turned on I got when I was threatened like this. Revelations. I didn’t like them.

“You’re not going anywhere until you tell us how you know who we are,” he said with a grin. I frowned in confusion. That was not the thing I thought he was thinking.

“What?” I whispered.

“Detective,” Sam said and I was finally able to flicker my gaze to him. “I don’t think he knows what you’re talking about.

“Yes he does,” Dean said. “You called me by my name last night, or have you forgotten?” His voice was low, like a soft caress across the skin and I turned back towards him. It was getting difficult to focus on the words again because I felt like I was drowning in everything that was Dean, eyes, skin, heat, scent. I wanted to curl up in it.

“What?” I whispered again.

“You called me “Dean” last night Zack,” Dean said and my whole body froze. What had I been thinking? Wait, no, obviously I hadn’t been thinking, and now I was going to die. Any minute now.

“No,” I shook my head, trying to clear the haze of sexy, hot man and get it back to, dangerous psychotic man. “I… what are you talking about?”

“Dean… where’d you come up with that name exactly, Mr. Fawks?” Dean asked, very softly, very dangerously. His eyes were narrowed and pierced right through me, holding me in place.

Now I had an option. A very dangerous option. To tell him I knew about him and his brother because of the mass shootings televised or to tell him that I knew they were hunters. Which was the lesser of the two evils? Worst thing, I had no idea.


	19. Dean

Dean had him and he knew it. The man in front of him was quivering in fear, practically wetting himself with it. Although not interested in getting piss on his pants, Dean didn’t mind using all his strengths to get the truth. 

“I…” Zack said, looking from Dean to Sam and then back frantically. His eyes didn’t stay still for long. He was trying to decide something, but Dean didn’t know what exactly.

“I think it would be in your best interest to tell the truth here Zack,” Sam said coaxingly and Dean gave a sharp toothed smile.

“Truth,” Dean reiterated. “You want to give us the truth.” Dean *needed* the truth, all the truth, because he was dying just knowing that he was missing something here.

“Truth?” Zack said. Dean watched his breathing escalate, his eyes widen as he continued to not look at anything in particular. Sweat started to slip down his cheek and neck, and Dean watched it a little. There was a dark part of himself that wanted to lean in and lick up the bead of sweat, and just the thought made him pull away a little. What was wrong with him?

“That’s right,” Sam said, and he took a small step closer to Zack. “You should tell us the truth. Do you know who we are?” His voice was still soft and coaxing, and Dean wished he had any idea how to pull that off. No one ever trusted Dean like they trusted Sammy.

“Oh,” Zack clutched at the counter behind himself and was now shaking. It was a full body shake, and for a moment Dean was worried that Zack was going to pass out with fear. Of course that was silly, no one passed out from fear. “I… can’t?” he whispered and Dean shook his head at him.

“Now Zack,” he said softly. “You know you have to tell us the truth, because if you know who we are, you know we’ll find out all about you if we want to. Every last secret. Wouldn’t you prefer to tell us yourself?” Dean smiled and reached out to lightly pat Zack on the shoulder. The body was completely stiff, but he didn’t let it dampen his spirits.

“Admittedly we know a lot already,” Sam said. “Your parents were murdered by robbers when you were young, nearly killed you as well. Then you went into foster care, but kept running away. Finally you landed here, and stayed, growing up working in the cemetery, the very one these bodies are popping up. Do I need to go on?” Sam was intentionally twisting things to make it look like they suspected him, and it worked like a charm.

“You think I…?” Zack said, eyes going wide as he shook his head. Glancing around, he swallowed loudly. “Fine, fine, but not here, okay? Not where people can overhear.”

“Fine,” Dean nodded, taking a step back. “Your office then.”

“Okay.” He took a step and his legs were wobbling so badly he fell to the ground, legs crumpled under himself. This time, Dean wasn’t going to help him up. There was no way he was trusting Zack, he’d done enough fawning over the other man already. “Just a minute,” he whispered, putting his face in his hands. “Just a minute.”

Dean finally turned away enough to look less threatening to passersby. Zack was still in his peripheral vision and Sam was leaning against another table looking completely relaxed. Zack took several breaths and then his shoulders started shaking. With a groan, Dean looked at Zack, then back to Sam.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean said, pleading with his brother. “Tell me he isn’t.”

“I think he is,” Sam said. His brows were furrowed as he stared at Zack. The reaction Zack was having was confusing for both of them. “I think you broke him Dean.”

“I did not *break* him,” Dean said defensively, crossing his arms. “He’s a grown man for Christ’s sake.”

“He’s fragile I guess,” Sam shrugged. “I told you to be careful.”

“I’m fine!” Zack hissed, and when Dean looked back he was wiping his face angrily with his hand. Using the counter to support himself, he stood up carefully. “Just fine.” He poured coffee into a white cup with a tree pattern on it and as it heated, bright pink flowers appeared on the tree. “Let’s go then,” he snapped, turning and beginning the walk to his office, back straight even though his legs were still a bit wobbly.

“You are sober, right?” Dean asked. Now he was worried that Zack would drop the mug and break it, using shards to try to kill one of them. Admittedly, for the moment Dean didn’t know if Zack would go for his own throat or Deans.

“As sober as I’m going to be,” Zack said, not looking back. He walked through the building and to an office. The door had a tree with pink flowers on it as well, and once inside Dean could see more of that anime character that Zack seemed to like all over. There was also a redhead with a rose in some things, but most of it was the silver haired guy. Shaking his head, he watched Zack go around the desk and sit down. Zack’s hands were shaking so badly that he spilled some of his coffee on them.

“Fine,” Dean said, closing the door behind them and leaning on it. “What’s going on?”


	20. Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* I'm sorry, it's not a habit to post on Mondays yet.

It was difficult not to be intrigued by the interactions between Dean and Zack. Sam found it fascinating how irritated Dean was by this innocent seeming human. Of course, Dean was certain Zack wasn’t human, and his hunches were generally good, but even that shouldn’t make Dean so anxious. Lately he’d been worried about Dean, how far he kept pushing people away, how he’d tried to make things black and white. How much his heart had been broken.

For the moment at least, Sam didn’t feel threatened, so he sat down and crossed his ankles. Dean was still at the door, arms crossed, a defensive position, especially with how tense his whole body was. He was being aggressive, assertive, and it showed in how Zack was reacting to him.

For the moment, Dean was in charge, and he took that role seriously. When Dean got like this, Sam knew to take a small step back, let him figure out if who they were talking to was “friend” or “foe”. In this case for certain, that was no easy decision. Sam could see the way Dean communicated with Zack, the slight touches, the need to look out for the other man. It seemed to be an instinctive urge, and Dean was fighting against that urge because he didn’t trust it, didn’t trust himself anymore. That left Sam in the mediator role, which he didn’t actually mind being in every once in a while. He had to keep Dean from making mistakes, permanent mistakes. Sam could do that.

“Any minute now,” Dean said. Sam turned to Zack, who was looking into his coffee cup as though it would tell him the secrets of the universe. He didn’t say anything though, and Dean tapped his foot impatiently.

“I think you need to come clean here,” Sam encouraged. There was nothing good that could come from Zack lying, or trying to wiggle out of the truth. Dean would kill him just for the slight. “You’re only going to make him more angry if you don’t.”

“I know, alright?” Zack finally said. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I know everything.” The way he said it made him sound guilty, as though knowing who they were was a deep secret, and he was going to be wrecked just from admitting it.

“What is “everything” exactly?” Dean insisted, and Zack opened his eyes to glare at him.

“I know you’re Sam and Dean Winchester, the brothers who were involved in that serial killing stuff, only you aren’t those people, because you’re Hunters.” He took a breath and his glare slid away from angry and into defensive. The more Sam watched him, the more fear he saw in Zack.

“You know we’re Hunters, and you didn’t see fit to say anything to us before?” Dean snapped out. His arms slipped down to hang at his sides, hands balling into fists. Now he wasn’t just defensive, he was preparing for attack, currently sizing up the threat in front of them.

“No, I didn’t. I was hoping you’d just… just do what you needed to do and go. I didn’t expect you’d come here, not for such a simple hunt, not when I know what you’re really fighting is so much worse.” Zack deflated then and looked down at his coffee. “I knew you two would get information faster than I would, so there didn’t seem to be any reason to say anything.”

“No reason to say anything?” Dean said as he tossed his hands up in the air and walked towards the desk. “You could be helping us, not wasting our time. By not saying anything we still had to dress up and play detectives, instead of just getting your number and finding the details out over the phone. Why the hell would you be so damn secretive?”

Zack didn’t look up, didn’t say a thing, and Sam knew in that moment the fact that Dean was dancing around. Dean had been right, and Sam now had to decide if he would tell his brother the truth or not. “Dean,” he said, keeping his gaze on Zack as he spoke. “I think he didn’t want to complicate things.”

“This is more complicated,” Dean protested.

“How did you know?” Sam asked Zack. If he could just press enough to satisfy Dean, maybe they wouldn’t have to completely out the man. Sam lived in shades of grey, unlike Dean, and he had no problems doing so. “How did you know who we were?”

Zack swallowed and shook his head. “I just do, okay? Does it matter how?”

“Of course it matters,” Dean said. “There are only a few ways you could know, either other Hunters or…” he trailed off and Sam could see when Dean made his conclusion. Dean’s eyes narrowed at Zack. “Or you’re something worth looking into yourself.”

“I’m harmless!” Zack said as his breath now came in short gasps. He looked at Dean, his eyes widening, the fear nearly tangible in the room. Sam didn’t know what to say, or what to do to calm the situation down. Dean was still aggressive, and the wrong move could be fatal to any of them. “Seriously, this is the first set of murders the whole time I’ve lived here, I’ve never killed anyone, I’ve never done anything to hurt people. I… I….” He was suddenly standing and backing away from his desk, his chair toppling to it’s side as he moved. “I don’t *want* to die,” he whispered as though the very admission was simply too much to ask for. He was looking at Dean as though certain that was what was about to happen.

“We aren’t here to kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it,” Sam said cautiously as he watched his brother closely. Dean stood and reached inside of his jacket, not even glancing at Sam as he did so.

“What are you then?” Dean said. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Dean!” Sam stood, reaching out a hand to stop his brother. In a second there would be bloodshed and they didn’t even know what Zack was. “Stop it. For all we know, every word has been the truth.”

“Doesn’t matter, if he’s a monster, he dies, you know the drill Sammy.” The grim determination and no questions asked attitude was what was bothering Sam the most.

“I… I… I…” Zack gasped, breath so ragged he couldn’t form more coherent words. “Please….” Then his eyes rolled back and he fell to the ground. With a blink, Sam turned from his brother to look at the space Zack had just been occupying.

Only one step behind Dean, they walked around the desk, every muscle tensed and ready for a trap. Only what they found was Zack, passed out on the ground, a few tears streaking his cheeks. “Huh,” Sam said as he blinked down at Zack and then up to Dean. “I think he passed out in fear.”

Crouching down on the ground, Sam pressed his fingers to Zack’s neck to check his pulse. Zack’s heart was pounding fiercely, and his skin was slick with sweat. “Do you really think this is someone we need to be gearing up to kill?” Sam asked as he shook his head. This was seriously a new one for the books.

“If he’s a monster, he’ll always be a monster,” Dean said firmly. Sam knew that this attitude was dangerous to both of them, and he took in a breath before launching his defense.

“This is different Dean,” he said patiently. It was difficult to argue reasonably when he was still angry with Dean for killing Amy, when he had just recently killed Dean’s daughter because of that anger. Sam knew better than to try to get back at his brother as it always backfired on him. His gut was rolling with uncertainty and guilt for not waiting to make sure that the girl was dangerous before killing her. This time though, it was obvious that they would be killing a defenseless man, monster or no, and Sam didn’t think he could let his brother do that. “I mean… he’s passed out.” Sam waved a hand at Zack’s body before looking up at his brother again.

“Doesn’t make a difference, he might be faking.” Dean pulled out his gun. “Get out of the way Sam.”

“You don’t even know what he is! How would you know how to kill him?” Sam stood and got between Dean and Zack. “I think you need to calm down. Let’s take it one step at a time, just like any other case. First thing to do is check up on his claim of never murdering someone. That should be easy enough to check out, and we still have the ghost to catch. As long as we keep our eyes on him, he can’t hurt anyone.”

Dean looked like he was going to keep arguing, but finally he put the gun away. “He might just run,” he said. Even though they’d only been here for a day, Sam figured that if Zack was going to run, he’d have done so already.

“I don’t think he will,” Sam said. “He’s made a life here, people like him, he’s got a steady paycheck. Remember what I dug up on him already? The robbery gone wrong? I bet that was actually hunters, killing his parents. Instead of going after them though, he went into the system. Sure, he ran away from a few foster homes, but from what I hear, a lot of kids do. Now he’s living in society, and you know that’s a better alternative to him chasing down the hunters who killed his parents to get revenge.” Sam took a breath and was watching Dean slowly begin to listen to him. “Here he is, in a situation where he’s got hunters on his doorstep, again, and instead of trying to get us caught, or killed, he’s been helping us. It’s obvious that the people of this town are important to him, or he would have run away as soon as he saw us. As far as we know, he hasn’t hurt anyone, there’s no reason to kill him now.”

Dean looked down at Zack and glared. “I don’t like it,” he said. “Just because he’s a total and complete idiot doesn’t mean he won’t try to stab us in the back.”

“Well he’d have to catch us by surprise, and if you guard my back, I’ll guard yours,” Sam vowed as he stood up. Dean finally looked over at Sam, and nodded.

“Good deal. So, do we just leave him here?”

“I think we should leave him a note,” Sam said. He gave Zack’s prone body one more glance. Just because he’d won this argument with Dean didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be careful. “Just so he doesn’t try to run.”


	21. Zack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very short chapter. There aren't many of them.

When I opened my eyes I was certain I was going to be in Purgatory. My parents had told me about it a little, and I didn’t relish the thought of going there. When I had been little, I’d asked my parents if I was really, really good, if I could go to Heaven instead. They’d laughed, kissed my head and told me it was all a tale and I shouldn’t worry about it.

Now I was an adult, and I knew better. Looking around, I saw I was on the floor of my office and I thought, ‘Purgatory is just like real life.’. I carefully sat up and when I managed to get to my feet, I saw a note on my desk.

“Zack,” I read.

“We’re going to contact you further regarding our case, if needed. Given the circumstances, we’ve decided to allow you one chance. If we find you lied to us about your lifestyle, or you step out of line, you know we’ll be there to take care of the problem. Needless to say, you should remain in town, as running will only be proof of your guilt. Contact us if you have any further information on the case.

“D. & S.”

I took a deep breath, read it twice, and decided this couldn’t be Purgatory. The note wasn’t exactly subtle, but it wasn’t blatant. No one around would know what it meant if they read it, and they certainly wouldn’t know that what they were saying was “Fuck up and you’re dead.” Although I wasn’t really given a choice, it wasn’t like I was planning on going anywhere anyway. Now that they knew, there was no reason to run.

Where could I run anyway, where they wouldn’t find me? Not very many people ran from the Winchesters, and fewer of them survived to tell of the tale. Best I just buckle down, refrain from telling them what I was so they wouldn’t easily be able to kill me, and hope for the best. That meant I needed more coffee. Lots more coffee. All the coffee in the world. I grabbed my cup, downed the now cold slop in it, and headed out to the machine. No time like the present.


	22. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 of 2 chapters I'm posting today. Sorry, last week was a mess. Gonna try not to be a mess again this week.

The phone call came just as Dean opened the motel room door, body still lightly trembling from the rage he’d had earlier. Sam answered it after the second ring. "Hello?" he said as Dean pulled his tie open. He was glad he probably wouldn’t have to wear it again this hunt, even if that did bring different emotions into the mix. "Hey Samantha, how are you doing?" Good, it was the other girl, hopefully this would answer some questions.

Dean kicked his shoes off as he headed for the bed, sitting down and falling back onto it, closing his eyes when his head hit the mattress. Even now he couldn’t stop thinking about Zack. He’d been ready to shot now, question later, and some part of him wanted to return to the hospital immediately, no matter what Sam said. Sam had been right to stop him though. For one thing they’d been in a public building, that wouldn’t have been the best place to kill anyone, monster or not.

He took in a deep breath as he started unbuttoning his shirt. That look of fear on Zack’s face when he was reaching for his gun was dancing in his mind and Dean wanted to push the image away. It didn’t make any sense for a monster of any variety to be so scared of them, did it? He knew they had a reputation, and he knew that they worked hard to maintain certain standards, but in that moment Dean felt like he was a death squad with a human in his sights. The fear in Zack ran so deep, and Dean had never met another being who was so afraid. Did Zack have no ability to protect himself? Was he defenseless, and if he was, did Dean really have the right to kill him? Was there humanity still in Zack, enough of it to save? Worst of all, why was he doubting himself, and his own rules?

John Winchester had taught him to track and kill, that was it. It was black and white, no room for error or question, because that way led to death, or worse. Dean had seen many of those “worse” things happen by this time, and he didn’t want to work in the murky grey that Sam usually inhabited. There had only been one time he’d disobeyed those rules, Lenore, and even when he’d done it, it had left a bad taste in his mouth. He wouldn’t have let her go if he hadn’t seen her choose her “vegetarian” diet over regular food with his own eyes. Those had been incredibly extreme circumstances as well, if he had been her… Dean took in another breath. Maybe they could test Zack, make sure that he was strong enough to resist his urges. That would be easier if they knew what the hell he was.

"Earth to Dean," Sam's voice pierced through Dean’s thoughts and he blinked his eyes open.

"What?" Dean asked. He sat up and pulled the tie and shirt off.

“We’ve got an appointment to see Samantha in a half hour. She said she saw everything, and I’m worried about her. I think she’s on the edge of a panic attack. Every once in a while she had to stop talking because she was short of breath. We’re going to the library, meeting her outside. Don’t fall asleep.” Sam was undressing as well and he nodded at Dean as he finished.

"I don't fall asleep at the library," Dean smirked. He pulled his duffle out and grabbed a change of clothes. Time to tuck away difficult questions and focus on the job at hand. ”You do."

"Riiiight.” Sam shook his head. "Do you need the bathroom? I want to take a shower before we go."

Raising his eyebrows, Dean watched his brother. "You want a shower? What, she that hot? You know, if you want me to stay out tonight, I could do that, and you could have some private time."

"She's too young Dean," Sam said with a roll of his eyes.

"Only matters if someone finds out." It was good to keep the mood light, helped Sam focus. He pretended otherwise, but no one knew Sammy better than Dean.

"Was that a yes or a no?"

"No, of course, have fun," Dean winked and when Sam was gone, he finished changing his clothes and made sure all his weapons were in place. The routine was calming, and when he was done he sat on the edge of his bed, pulling out a small notebook and began compiling facts he had about Zack.

Being in the sun didn’t tire him or seem to bother him at all, not a vampire. He didn’t boast or act full of himself so not a demon. Probably not a Leviathan because he seemed sure that him and Sam were supposed to be fighting the Leviathan’s. Also, Zack wasn’t really in any place of power but it wouldn’t hurt to test with a little cleaning fluid. If he took that and a container of holy water then he could do both in one go. Dean had tucked a silver knife away so he had that to test as well. With a nod, he set about getting all the supplies into pockets. He’d have a surprise for Zack next he saw the man. One test at a time he would figure out what creature Zack was.


	23. Sam

"Hey there Samantha," Sam said. His voice was gentle but she still startled, eyes wide as she looked at him. Slowly, he sat down next to her, noticing the drastic changes she’d gone through in only one night. Her eyes were bloodshot, there were dark lines under them and the look was haunted. There was no easy flirting anymore, just fear.

"Hey," she said softly. Her hands were wrapped around a kleenex and he saw a small box of them sitting on the bench next to her. "Thanks for coming. I mean, I thought you would, the story is better with an eyewitness, right?" She said it flippantly, but there was nothing flippant in her motions, or her words.

"Yeah.” Sam nodded and pointed at Dean. "This is my partner Dean."

“Nice to meet you Samantha.” Dean smiled and offered his hand. She gave Dean a small smile in return and shook it.

"Likewise. So, you want to hear what happened last night, right?" she asked, letting go of Dean's hand and looking back at Sam.

"Of course, if you can talk about it.” Sam pulled out his notebook and pen. He didn’t want to push her but if she was able to get them some details he wouldn’t argue. "Whenever you're ready."

"Sure." She nodded and took in a deep breath. Her fingers clenched at the kleenex again as she did so. ”So, I know you told us not to go out to the cemetery, but we didn't think anything about it, you know? Bethany thought it'd be fun, and I didn't care, my Grandfather's buried there so I visit sometimes. We figured we'd just walk around and see some of the old graves and maybe call you up today and tell you we saw something just so we could see you again."

She flushed but took in a quick breath before forging on ahead. "When we got there we noticed it was really dark, which was strange, because it's been pretty light out at night, what with the moon going full, but we didn't think we'd stay long anyway, so we just kept on walking. We stopped by my Grandfather, and I said a few things, then we headed deeper in. That old building, the one with all the vines on it, you know the one?" Sam nodded at her as the image of it swam into his mind. He’d thought it was a weird building to be an administrative office. "We were walking around it when I noticed it was really cold. Like, I could see my breath and everything, which it just wasn't that cold anywhere else so it didn't make sense. We finished walking around the thing and headed down the path and that's when I saw her." Her voice hitched and she looked around.

"Was she in front of you or to the side?" Dean inquired, and Sam watched Samantha focus on Dean. As far as distracting tactics went, it wasn’t bad, and Sam wrote a few things down.

"Kind of to the side, behind a tree, like she was watching us, or had been watching us for a while. At first, I thought it was someone else who had hopped the fence, so I pointed her out to Bethany. The woman looked at me, then over at Bethany when Bethany called out to her. It was weird, the way the woman was watching us, so I wasn’t sure Bethany should be, you know, engaging other people, and I told Bethany I wanted to leave. She didn’t listen to me, and started walking towards the woman, and I followed her.”

A few tears slid down her cheeks and she wiped at them impatiently. “It was so cold. I was shivering, and we both ended up pausing at this grave. Georgia Claire. I looked down at it and then the woman screamed. It was, it was awful. She yelled at us, saying we didn’t belong here, that we were in her house. Bethany laughed and said we weren’t in a house, but then the woman… the woman ran right at her and her hand went *into* Bethany’s chest. Beth… Beth stopped laughing, and all the color faded from her face and she started crying. I just started screaming.” Tears were flowing down her cheeks now, and Sam put down his notebook to reach over and touch Samantha’s shoulder. “I ran,” Samantha said, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I just ran away. I didn’t check to see if Bethany was okay, I didn’t try to help her, I just ran. When I was in my car, I drove away, nearly getting into an accident on the way home. What, what kind of friend am I?” she finished in a whisper. “I’m the worst kind of friend. I just left her there.”

Sam shook his head and spoke softly, ”Hey, it's okay now, you're safe. There wasn’t anything you could do for her, you don’t know how to fight off ghosts.” He looked over at Dean, who nodded once at him. It was time to come clean. “Look, you and your friend did something dangerous, but you didn’t know it was dangerous. I know that’s no consolation, but it’s the truth.” He moved a little closer and she threw herself into his arms, holding on tightly as she began sobbing. Sam didn’t know why it was so much easier for him to comfort people than it was for Dean or his father, but he seemed to come by it naturally, and he held Samantha close.

"What if she comes back?" Samantha whispered through her tears.

“That’s why we’re here,” Dean said. “We find these things, and we take care of them.”

“Like, Ghostbusters or something?” Samantha moved away enough to look at Dean.

“Sort of. Look, she can’t leave the cemetery. Ghosts are bound to things or places, so she can’t find you. When we’ve taken care of things, we’ll let you know it’s safe, okay?”

“Will I be able to go back sometime? I mean, my Grandfather’s there, I used to visit him regularly and now… I don’t even know if I could go in the middle of the day.”

“They usually only come out at night,” Sam said softly, one hand lifting to gently stroke her hair. “That seems to be their preferred time of day. You should be safe, but I promise we’ll let you know, okay?”

With another nod, she looked down at her hands. “We shouldn’t have gone. We just shouldn’t have. If we’d listened to you, she’d still be alive.”

Sam sighed. “But you did. I promise you, we won’t let it happen again, okay? It’ll get better, it’s just going to take a little while.”

With another sniff and a nod, Samantha moved away from Sam. “Okay. Thank you.”


	24. Dean

Dean sat down across from Sam and started eating. They’d stopped at the buffet next to the hotel and if they served cat, at least they did it in a tasty gravy. He took a few bites before looking over at Sam. “Why'd you tell her that?"

"What?" Sam asked, glancing up from his noodles.

"That thing's will get better. Things never get better when you learn this stuff is real." He glanced around the buffet but didn’t recognize anyone. It did seem to be popular though, it was almost full.

"That's not true," Sam argued. "Sometimes knowing there’s something bad in the dark means you protect yourself, or that you don't do stupid things that could get yourself killed. I bet Samantha will never again go into a cemetery at night, and if she notices cold spots somewhere else in her life, she'll run away."

"And in the meantime she'll have the horrible knowledge that she ran away from her friend as she was getting killed by a ghost. That kind of shit doesn’t just go away Sammy.”

"We all have scars Dean, some are internal, some are external." Sometimes Dean wanted to punch Sam in his incredibly rational face.

"So do you think it was the woman of that grave? Georgia? Should we dig her up tonight?" He was ready to get this done and be gone. Or get it done and focus on Zack, it was a little hard to tell which he wanted more.

“Yeah, I think so. Hey, should we call Zack? See if he knows anything about her?” Sam asked with a grin. He was teasing Dean, but all it made Dean want to do was strangle him.

Stabbing at the meat on his plate, Dean took a big bite, chewing obnoxiously before shaking his head. "You had to bring him up, didn't you?"

"Well, we told him not to run, and that we’d contact him if we needed to. Think his computer skills are any good?” Sam gave his food a small smile. “I have to look him up anyway, figure out if he’s killed anyone in town, or in any of the towns he’d been in over the years.”

“Just do the work yourself,” Dean grumbled. “I want a beer," he said to a passing waitress. When she nodded, he looked back at Sam. "What do you think he is?" He didn’t necessarily want to change topics, but if Sam was going to do so he’d get the most out of the conversation.

"I don't know," Sam said, looking back at Dean. “If he hasn’t killed anyone, it doesn’t matter. We aren’t killing an innocent man, right?” Sam held Dean’s gaze as he spoke, a soft note of urgency in his voice. Dean hated the sound of it.

"Still up for discussion," Dean said. He took the beer and drank from it before putting it on the table. "How can we really prove he hasn't killed anyone?"

“I know what I’m doing Dean. Like any other case, we investigate leads. Small towns like this don’t have many murders, it should be fairly easy to tell if he’s been active. When he was a kid will be harder, since he moved around a lot, but still, if there were consistent murders across different locals, we know.” He put his fork down and took in a breath. “What’s really bothering you? It’s like you just want to rush into killing people, instead of checking to make sure you have the right weapon in your hand.”

"I don't like it, I don't like him. Hunting was simple, and it's like every time I try to make it that way again, something comes along and messes with me." Heart to hearts weren’t his thing, they were Sam’s thing, and they left a bad taste in his mouth. Dean looked down at his plate, feeling a little queasy. Maybe it really was cat.

"Dean, we’ve never intentionally killed an innocent person, and I’m not about to start doing that now."

"I know that!" Dean snapped, looking at his brother in annoyance. "I mean, I do. But monsters kill, it's what they do, they always do it, they won't stop. I don't see how... how..." He had to trail off, because nothing about Zack made sense, and he just kept questioning his feelings regarding Zack.

"Not all monsters always kill. Dean, we haven't talked about this, but there are lines. We need to have lines.” Sam frowned. "If we don't draw lines, then how can we say we’re protecting the right people? We’re no better than the monsters we hunt if we just indiscriminately kill.”

"I don't. Want to draw lines that is. How do you draw a line about this sort of thing?” He was exasperated, just trying to create a set of rules in his head he had to follow, and he focused on his beer for the moment. "I want my black and white lines back. If he's killed someone, he dies, end of story."

"You can't make lines like that. What if he was protecting himself? What if he was protecting someone else? We’ve both killed people trying to help someone, there are factors to consider. If you just have monster, human as your stipulations, then you’re no better than Gordon. You have to have some standards.” Sam crossed his arms. "You're not killing him if he's innocent."

"He can't be innocent.” Dean glared at his brother. "No creature is innocent, they just aren't. We aren’t even innocent.”

"Dean," Sam started, and with a few guzzles, Dean finished his beer and stood. He was done with this conversation.

"No Sam, we're not going to go thirty rounds on this one. It's simple, if he's killed a human, he dies." Putting his jacket back on, he nodded at Sam. "I'll see you back at the room, I need some fresh air."

"Dean!" Sam stood and Dean held out his hand.

"Alone Sam, time alone." He needed to cool his head, he needed to breathe without thinking about this anymore. There was only one way to do that, get out. So he turned away from his brother, and left.


	25. Zack

After driving around town for over two hours I had managed to find the motel the Winchesters were staying at. Their car was hard to forget, even if it wasn’t the beautiful Impala I’d seen in pictures and on the news. I parked next to it and took a breath.

During the two hour search, I’d done my best to figure out what I was going to say when I came across the brothers again. Which was when I realized I was banking on Amy’s descriptions of Sam, and her certainty that he would help me stay safe. I figured if I had any chance of survival, it would be with him, not with Dean. Now it was time to test the theory.

Getting out of the car, I took a look around. It wasn’t like I had any idea which room was theirs, the place was three floors tall. Which was when I saw Dean walking out of the Chinese buffet just beyond the parking lot. His hands were tucked into his jacket pockets and his gaze was down. There was a soft vulnerability to him in that moment that touched something inside me. Possibly my hormones. Probably my hormones. It should be illegal to be that beautiful.

It took me a few moments to realize that I had walked across the parking lot and was trailing behind him by a few paces. His shoulders were stiff, jacket barely moving as he walked, and every once in a while he’d kick a stone off the sidewalk and into the grass. Each stone clattered hard and fast across the cement, some of them bouncing a few more inches in the grass. I wanted to reach out and touch him, put an arm around him or hold him, tell him things would be okay. Not knowing what was wrong with him though, I didn’t dare. There was so much weight on his shoulders, and I couldn’t imagine holding them up every day like he did.

I should be in the restaurant, talking to Sam. This was a good opportunity for me to get him alone. It was obvious I would have several minutes to plead my case, to show I was harmless, to beg for mercy. Dean seemed in no hurry to head back, and the chance wasn’t likely to come back soon. Only I couldn’t leave, couldn’t seem to convince myself to walk away from the man in front of me.

When he spoke it startled me, maybe some part of my mind thought he wouldn’t know I was there. Which was ridiculous of course. “Are you stalking me or watching my ass?” he asked and I flushed. This time at least, I had been focused on his shoulders, not his ass.

“Jacket’s in the way,” I managed to say. It was a fine ass, and if I could be, I would love to be watching it right now.

“Huh.” There was a few steps of silence again. “Get up here,” he finally said, and I knew it wasn’t a request. It took me a few larger strides to get next to him and I used the time to try to steady my heart.

“Okay.”

He didn’t seem to want to talk yet though, so we walked in silence for a time. I pulled my coat a little more closed to combat the cold and kept pace with him. “Have you ever killed someone?” he asked, voice low and husky, startling me again.

“No!” I gasped. The very idea was repugnant to me, and I stared at him with wide eyes. He lifted an eyebrow at me and I let out a breath. Of course he had to make sure, he was a hunter, it was what they did. I took in a breath and let it out. “I know you don’t believe me, I know you don’t know me, but I swear to you that I have never, in my whole life, killed a human.” I put as much conviction in the words as I could, holding his steady, green gaze.

“What about your parents?” he pressed and I shrugged.

“I don’t know. They died when I was young, the subject had never come up before.” He opened his mouth to speak and I went on. “Did you ever ask your father about the lives he took during war?” Dean’s mouth closed. If I wanted him to see my side at all, I had to turn it to make sense to him. “I know he was a vet, that means he killed humans, not just monsters. Do you know everything he did? You were with him until you were in your twenties, you had plenty of time to do so.”

“He only killed the enemy,” Dean said as he narrowed his eyes at me.

“Obviously, but they weren’t his personal enemy, they were the government’s enemy.” There was silence for a time as we stared at each other and I went on. “Dean, there are lots of reasons to kill. To protect people, for food, for shelter or other base needs, to protect yourself even. Watching you… sometimes I feel like you haven’t figured out why *you* fight. Until you do that, you’re just going to hurt yourself, and the people around you as well.”

The Winchesters were legends among monsters, and not the good kind. They were frightening to me, the ruthlessness about them was well known. Until now, I’d spent my whole life wishing I wouldn’t meet them, because I had held no doubts that they’d kill me just for being alive. Occasionally I thought I might be able to bargain with Sam, like tonight, but never in my life had I thought of them as what they were. People. They wanted to protect the innocent, I got that. They were incredibly gifted at hunting and destroying monsters, I got that too. Now though, I was being given the opportunity to see things from their side, and maybe I’d learn a different kind of legend.

“My father…” he trailed off and shook his head. I could see the moment he closed himself off and I sighed. “What do you know anyway,” he growled out.

With a shrug, I said, “Not much. I know the basics, you and your brother were raised by your father when your mother died. He was a vet, she was from a family of hunters. You and Sam are heartless, relentless, you kill indiscriminately and leave no survivors.”

"That sounds like a compliment," Dean said as he started walking again, looking away from me.

“Not from my position,” I admitted. “I’ve read the public records. I know your father was considered a good man, but good men don’t get that title unless they’ve done something to protect others. Usually they do that by killing people. If you respect him, respect the choices he made, then you have to confront the fact that there are times when a person will kill, even if they don’t want to.”

"Not innocent people!" Dean snapped and I held my arms open.

"I've already told you I haven't killed anyone. Until you’ve checked things out you won’t believe me. I dare you to leave me alive, and to drop by unannounced for the rest of my life, just to see if I’ve crossed that line. To be honest, I probably wouldn’t even think to protect myself by killing someone else. I only passed self defense in school because my teacher felt sorry for me.”

“Let me test you,” Dean said and I blinked at him.

“What?”

“Let me test you for demonic possession, and for being a Leviathan. If you do that, I’ll consider letting you live.” He stopped again and turned to face me.

It seemed a small price to pay, and I nodded. “Okay. What do I need to do?”

“Hold out your hands, palm down,” he instructed and I did so. He pulled out a flask and splashed water over one hand. When nothing happened, he pulled out another flask and dripped something more slimy on my other hand. My nose wrinkled as I caught the smell of cleaning solution. Before I could say anything, he had pulled out a knife and he slashed it across the first hand.

“Ow!” I gasped out, pulling my hand close and looking down at the well of blood swelling up on my skin. “Did you have to?”

“Let me see it,” Dean said, reaching for my hand and pulling it closer to him. His eyes scanned the skin and pulled at the wound, opening it and closing it with deep concentration.

“For fucks sake Dean,” I said with a wince. “Silver isn’t my weakness. Can you stop that? It hurts.”

“What *is* your weakness?” Dean asked, letting go of my hand and narrowing his eyes at me again.

“None of your business.” I reached into a pocket and pulled out a tissue, pressing it to the back of my hand. “You could have warned me you were going to do that you know. I’d have given you a finger or something.”

“I know which finger you would have given me,” he huffed out.

I tilted my head to the side, and happily flipped him off. He gave a soft laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling with it and something inside melted. It would be nice if death didn’t look so cute. “Are you done?” I asked as I pressed the tissue against the wound.

“For now,” he said with a nod. “You’re so irritating. One minute I think I have you pegged, and the next you’re throwing the system completely off.”

“One would think I was a complex person with multiple facets or something,” I agreed. “How odd.”

“See, like that.” He started walking again. “We both know you’re not human, so you should stop pretending.”

“I am who I am. Which includes multiple personality points. I’m not one dimensional Dean. The sooner you come to that realization, the better off we’ll both be.”

“All monsters -“ he started, but I threw my hands up in irritation.

“See, there’s your problem,” I said. I spoke as fast as I could in the hopes he’d hear me out. “You say all monsters, and you lump all of us in a category together, but you can’t tell me you hunt us all the same way. You don’t go looking for a werewolf during the new moon, do you? When you hunt vampires, you look at night. Throughout everything, you’re still treating me like I’m some kind of mindless creature, but I’m obviously not. I work, I pay taxes, I help people live with debilitating diseases and I cry when patients die. What part of that makes me easy to understand?” I took a deep breath when I finished talking, frustrated by all of the messing around. There was no reason for him to treat everyone the same, and I wasn’t about to let him put me in the same category as all the other creatures that killed indiscriminately.

For several moments we walked in silence and he finally shook his head. “I still don’t like you,” he said.

“Fine. I’m still scared of you.” If he could pretend to be a child, so could I.

“Who’s to say I shouldn’t be scared of you?”

“Really? I’m pretty sure the ghost you’re hunting is twenty times more frightening than I am, and you aren’t that worried.” I raised my eyebrows at him. Today, in my office, I’d come to a sort of peace with myself. I would help them, and if it killed me, well, that was how things were going to go. It wasn’t like I had family who would really miss me, and I couldn’t really run. I knew how that would end for me. So I’d help the hunters, and pray it allowed me to live.


	26. Dean

Dean paused and considered looking over at Zack. He didn't like the emotions that had been going through him as he talked with the other man. There had been questions he wouldn’t ask, thoughts he pushed aside so he could do his job. Dean liked things in neat little boxes, rows of right and wrong to be looked at and decided on. He didn’t like the things that were in between, complex or grey. It was a coping mechanism he’d gotten when he’d been working with his father, and the older he got, the less it all made sense.

He finally gave in and looked over at Zack, who was wiping at his face in irritation. Had he been crying, or was he just rubbing at his eyes? “What’s the problem?” he asked, briefly wondering how the conversation had gotten so out of hand.

"Nothing," Zack said as he took in a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Dean said with a frown. In the lamplight he could see that Zack’s cheeks were wet. “Sure.” Now Zack was flushing.

"Actually, I'm not," Zack whispered. “There is nothing fine with being worried about your safety every second of every day, but until you two are gone and I’m still alive that’s what I’m going to be doing.” Dean's eyes flit back to Zack's brown ones, but Zack refused to meet his gaze.

There was really nothing Dean could say to that. He was the one holding the axe over Zack’s head. So he changed the subject. “I’m going back to my room. What the hell did you come out here for anyway?”

"Oh, um... I wanted to talk to Sam," Zack said with a soft laugh and a shake of his head. "Beg for my life really, but for some reason I came out here when I saw you."

“If you thought I’d be easier to kill when I’m alone, you’re wrong. Plus, you should have got to Sam, he’s the soft hearted one.” The worst thing about Zack was that it was easy to forget he was a monster. He was honest with Zack in a way he wasn’t even honest with Sam, there was a connection there that he didn’t understand and mostly just wished would go away. Dean didn’t trust many people, and the last one had betrayed him. A fucking *angel* had left a hole so deep inside Dean that he didn’t know how to deal with the pain, so he’d buried it, along with everything else he didn’t know how to deal with. If that trust had been misplaced, how could he even *want* to trust a monster?

“Well,yes, that’s true. He’s going to need to persuade you too though, there’s no reason why I can’t try to butter you up first.”

“Is that what this is?” Dean asked. With a small laugh, he raised his eyebrows. “How’s that working out for you?”

“I don’t know. Are you willing to let me live?”

“Maybe,” Dean said.

“So, it’s kinda working.”

“How do you know anything about us anyway? Monster chat rooms?” It bothered him that Zack seemed so well versed. Bothered him and impressed him a little bit.

“You’d be surprised what you can find on the internet,” Zack said calmly and Dean narrowed his eyes. “I’m joking, obviously.” Zack shook his head. “You can’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

That didn’t help Dean figure out if Zack was joking or not, but it at least proved that Zack had a little backbone. Dean couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. “What’s the real reason then?” he pushed.

Zack was completely still for a moment before speaking. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about that with you Dean. You still want to kill me, and…”

"I don't want to kill you!" Dean snarled. Every step of the way this man poked and pushed and just the fact that he’d admitted a fault made him angry. His emotions went up and down every conversation with Zack and it seemed like he couldn’t control that. Which of course made him more angry. "But I will, make no mistake, I will."

With a nod of his head, Zack said, “I know you will.” He reached out and lightly touched Dean’s arm. There was a small charge that went through Dean, like shocks across his skin. Zack wasn’t even touching his skin.

"Don't touch me," Dean breathed, flinching away from Zack. He wasn’t sure who he was disgusted with, Zack or himself and when Zack pulled away as if he’d been burned, Dean realized that in a way, he had been. "I don't know you well enough for you to touch me."

"Sorry," Zack said, and Dean shrugged.

"Just don't do it again." It was hard enough to pick out the normal emotions when it came to Zack, he really wasn’t ready to deal with the ones that made his heart beat a little faster.

"Right."

Silence fell and for the first time in a long while Dean felt uncomfortable in it. He wasn't a big talker really, not of the important stuff, but this weight between them was heavy. He had to disperse it somehow.

"Look, I don't talk about that personal stuff, okay?" Dean said finally. "I just am, who I am and what I am. I don't get all mushy and open and shit. So, that's just, you know, it." He wasn't sure what he was saying, or if he was making sense, but when he looked at Zack again the other man was nodding.

"Fine." Zack gave Dean a small smile. “Does that mean you’ll keep me alive to do your bidding?”

"Don't push your luck. There is nothing I need you to be doing except staying out of trouble.” Dean knew that he had to make a firm decision about Zack, but he wasn’t going to do that until he’d heard from Sam about potential murders. Beyond that, he didn’t know for sure, besides the fact that if he had to, no matter what he was feeling for the other man, he would kill Zack.


	27. Sam

When Sam saw Dean and Zack coming towards the motel at the same time he was confused. Dean had expressly wanted to be alone. Either at some point that had changed or Zack had inflicted his presence on Sam’s brother. If that was true, Dean hadn’t pushed Zack away, which was almost as amazing as the easy camaraderie they had as they walked over to him. It was nice to see Dean a little more relaxed. Sam hated arguing with his brother, even if he did do it all the time.

"Hey," he said as he met them in the parking lot.

"Hey," Dean said, nodding at him. "How was the rest of dinner?"

"Not bad.” Sam smiled. "How was your walk?"

"Fine." Dean nodded at Zack. "He came to beg you for his life.”

"Hey!" Zack said, blushing. "Not nice."

Shrugging, Dean nodded towards the motel. "I'm heading to the room. You two can plot all you want without me.”

Raising his eyebrows at Zack, Sam wondered what on earth the two of them had talked about. "So, what exactly does he mean?" he asked as Dean headed off.

Zack was watching Dean walk away, completely focused on him. He didn't talk for several moments and that gave Sam the opportunity to watch Zack. He was a little taller than Dean and his hair fell past his shoulders by several inches. It was thick and wavy, and with a quick glance at Zack’s eyebrows, Sam figured that the color was natural. When Dean was out of the way, Zack turned to look at Sam, his rich brown eyes bright as he smiled. It wasn’t usual for Sam to be around someone who’s smile touched their eyes and it made him wonder what sort of creature Zack was. Smiles like that were rare.

"He means that's the reason I came here," Zack said, as though several minutes hadn't passed by. "I wanted to try to convince you, that you should try to convince him, that I didn't need to be killed.”

"And why should I do that?” Sam asked, crossing his arms to look threatening. Even though he’d already talked to Dean on Zack’s behalf, he had to wonder why Zack thought he was the one who could help.

"Because you see the grey.” Zack frowned. “Dean can’t, or he just doesn’t want to. I’m having a hard time deciding on that.”

“Uh huh,” Sam uncrossed his arms and took in a breath. “How do you have any idea about that?”

“Look, I’m going to be the first one to say what you’re doing is important. There are certainly people out there that need to be reigned in, and hunters do that, they protect people. There’s a lot of good you do, and I don’t fault you for doing it. I still have to protect myself though, right? I mean, there are very few hunters who are willing to turn a blind eye, so we do what we have to. We talk to each other, trade stories, pay for information when we have to. You know, because we have to be prepared. The more well known a hunter is, the more stories, the more rumors. I’ve spent most of my life trying to stay away from you guys. Not that it’s really helped, because here you are,” he grumbled with a roll of his eyes. “However, I have to be honest, when it comes to you two, most of what I know is about you, and there was one source that told me the most. We happened to go to college together, same classes, same major. We both worked really hard to hide in society, but she had one major flaw. She had a son.” Zack paused and met Sam’s gaze. A few pieces fell into place and Sam felt a wash of anger followed by pain. There was no way that Zack was talking about *her*.

"I'm really sorry about what happened with Amy," Zack said softly. "I wish I could have been there sooner to help her, or just about anything. She worked so hard to not fall down the wrong path."

"You can't talk to me about her," Sam said as panic rose inside him. He was still too wrapped up in how things went down to be able to talk about it rationally. There was certainly no way he could talk to Zack about her.

"I'm sorry," Zack took a step back but stood fairly solidly. "But if you're even half the person she said you were, then you understand that there is a way to live with humans, and not cause them trouble. I don't want to hunt them, I don't want to kill them, in fact I want to just pretend that there's nothing different between me and them. Most of the time, I can. I have no interest in children because I don't want to have to worry about "what happens if". The Elders feel I shouldn’t be stingy about that given how few of us there are, but what kind of life would I really give a child? Mine? Hers?” Zack's voice got bitter then and Sam forced his emotions down so he could actually listen to what Zack was saying.

"You do realize you can help without being involved in a child’s life, right?” Even as Sam said it he realized he was encouraging Zack to help his kind survive, and that was the last thing he should be doing.

Zack looked away and wrapped his arms around himself. "No. I won't. Some things shouldn't be passed on. There aren’t enough of my kind that feel we should coexist with humans. If I had kids and let someone else raise them then I’d worry they’d choose to hunt and kill. If I had them myself, I’d be dooming them to have to choose between eating what tastes good and suffering their whole life just so they could stay safe. What happened to me has happened to others, and most go dangerous with anger. If I had done that instead of becoming terrified of myself, then I probably wouldn’t be here at all anymore.” He took a deep breath before speaking again. “Look, I think I’ve gotten through to Dean, but let me make myself clear to you. I just want to live a peaceful life. I don’t want kids, I just want to find a guy, settle and maybe have a vegetable garden sometime. If I manage to find someone I’m going to be putting their life in danger, and I don’t want more complications. Can you believe that at least?”

Sam believed him. It was the way Zack talked, the body language and the trembling he did when he talked about certain events. It was possible for someone to be a really good actor, but Sam knew people, and Zack wasn’t that type. “Yeah, I believe you. So, does that mean… are you a kitsune?” he asked. It was hard to decide if he wanted the answer to that or not.

“I could be any number of things, and I can’t trust you enough yet to tell you.”

That was surprisingly okay with Sam and he nodded. "Fair enough. Dean'll still try to figure you out, you know that right?"

Zack nodded. "He won't stop. Dean'll never stop until he's happy, or at least satisfied. I understand."

"Then I think we’re done here. I’ll talk to him, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

“I’m not asking for guarantee's." Zack pulled his keys out of his pocket and nodded at Sam. "Have a good evening."

"You too Zack." Sam watched him get in his car and leave, feeling uncertain. After everything else that had happened recently he wasn’t sure how to deal with this new development. He supposed it was time to go in and talk to Dean.


	28. Dean

Dean hated being idle because it left time to think, but there was currently nothing to do. He stripped down to his underwear and walked into the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, he looked himself over critically. His skin was mostly smooth, brown and freckled, which made him cute to women so it didn't bother him. If anyone tried to comment on the handprint on his arm, he carefully placed a kiss or caress to distract them. He rarely looked at the handprint anymore, the pain of Castiel’s betrayal still fresh.

"Cas," he whispered as if he could summon the angel just by breathing his name. Once upon a time, he could, but now all he had were memories, images. Uneven black hair, eyes so blue he could fall forever and never find the bottom of them. Just thinking about Cas made his heart hurt. There were emotions there he didn't talk about, that he actively pushed away, but being around Zack had made them come back up. They rose to the surface like black oil emptied at the bottom of the ocean, destroying everything they came in contact with.

Dean wasn't one to sort through emotions, he didn't think about them as a general rule. Which was why it was dangerous to do so now. He was in the middle of a case, he didn’t have time to go through things. These were so painful, and he wasn’t used to his emotions swimming to the surface like this. How did he deal with them? There were similarities between his feelings for Cas and his feelings for Zack, and he couldn’t imagine how that could be. Zack was a wimp, literally fainting in the presence of personal danger, and Cas had been strong, a warrior for so long he did it as easily as breathing. There’d been a time when Dean was certain the attraction he’d felt for Cas had been to the strength of the angel, but if he was also feeling that attraction to Zack, then maybe it was something else. What did that even mean for him? Was it possible for a person to “go” gay?

The front door opened and it startled Dean. He hadn’t even been focused on himself anymore, and now he could see tears in his eyes. Wiping at them impatiently, he took in a deep breath and looked away from the mirror. He wasn’t seeing anything useful there. How long had he even been crying? Sam would know, because Sam always knew when he broke down. Dean’s eyes got puffy and red, and there was no way to hide the fact, he’d tried. He took a few breaths to steady himself and then opened the bathroom door to walk out.

"Hey," he said with a nod at Sam, who tilted his head as he looked Dean over carefully.

"Hey," he said. Sam set the keys down on the table and took off his jacket. "So you were right, Zack tried to bargain for his life. He said he talked to you about that a bit?"

"A bit.” Dean nodded as he went over to his bed and sat down. He kept his gaze on his hands so he didn’t have to look at Sam.

"What do you think?" Sam probed gently.

"What do you think I think?" Dean snapped in return. Getting grilled by his brother was never fun.

"I think he's telling us the truth."

"Creatures lie.”

"You used to say that demons lied."

"Demon's do lie."

"But sometimes they tell the truth,” Sam pointed out reasonably.

"So you're suggesting that maybe Zack is telling the truth because Demons who lie sometimes tell the truth?" Dean asked, finally looking up at Sam with a frown. That was the most convoluted thought process, and something only Sam would think of.

Sam shrugged and sat down. "Yeah," he said.

"And you think he's telling the truth." It wasn't a question, but Sam answered as though it was.

"Yeah, I think he's telling the truth. He's got every reason to lie but I don't think he is."

"Sam, he hurts someone, and he's dead. Are we at least on the same page on that?" Dean didn't think about the survival argument. That didn't matter. One didn't... *couldn’t* turn off those feelings, those beliefs, so easily.

Sam sighed and leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know Dean, it depends on what he does, why he does it. Can't you even admit that there might be a deeper reasoning behind killing someone sometimes?"

"No Sam, it's simple. He kills a human, he dies. That's all there is to it!" Dean yelled, slamming his hand down on the bed and standing up. He didn't need shades of grey.

With another sigh, Sam looked over at Dean. "No. I can't agree to that. But I know you feel that way, and maybe you're right. I just keep thinking back, you know? To Lenore. Things were different with her, you could feel it, and I was right about her, wasn't I? Can't we be right now, about Zack?"

Dean didn't like to think about Lenore. Cas killing her because she couldn't handle the situation just made his point feel all the more punctuated with certainty. "And look where that left her Sam. Begging to be killed because she couldn't handle being around with Eve out."

"Extreme circumstances Dean, and she asked to be killed because she felt horrible about what she'd done. That was honorable, noble even if you think about it. Neither of us wanted her dead."

"We should have known better. That's all there is to it. We shouldn't have let her live in the first place." Dean couldn’t keep talking about this. Guilt and anger rolled around inside, leaving him frustrated.

"No Dean! We did the right thing there!" Sam shook his head and stood up as his voice raised. "Christ Dean, I'll never be able to look at the world the way you do, but I think I'm right here, and we aren't going to be able to agree on this so I guess we just play it by ear. I don't want to have to stop you, so can we talk about it before we do something stupid?"

"I'm good at stupid," Dean said, but he didn't want to fight. "Fine, we'll talk about it later. Where are we with this ghost?"

With a deep breath, Sam sat down again. "I think we know where to go, I say we burn the bones tonight."

"I agree." Dean went back to the bathroom. "I want to shower."

"You seem to be taking an inordinate amount of showers today," Sam said curiously.

"So?" Dean snapped. He felt slimy all over. Must be the thinking.

"Just saying." There was a hint of amusement, and Dean chose to ignore it.

"I'll be out quickly."


	29. Zack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuun. :D

By the time I got home I was exhausted, so seeing three cars in my driveway did not make me happy. I knew who they belonged too which made me even less happy. The Elders were here. Now. While Sam and Dean were town. Which of course they were, I was just starting to possibly be on non-killing standing with the Winchesters. I didn't have such standing with the Elders. Not at all.

I parked and got out of the car, locking it behind me as I never did in my garage. I just felt icky with them around, and I didn't want any of them in my car. Kitsune’s were territorial by nature and the only reason the Elders could get away with dropping by unannounced, was because they were the ruling class.

It took me until I was walking up the basement stairs to hear them. Mostly because I wasn’t straining to listen for their voices. They never had anything good to say about me and so I tended not to listen. My current failings seemed to be related to the food in my fridge.

"Rabbit food, does he eat this?" Elder Abigail was saying, her gruff voice grating at me. She was an irritable woman, mid thirties appearance wise and she always spoke as though she was above everyone. Admittedly she was several hundred years old and she liked to throw her weight and experience around. If possible, I tried to stay away from her, we never saw eye to eye on anything.

"He must. For appearances I'm sure. Perhaps he entertains?" That was Elder Esmun. He was still an enigma to me. As one of the younger Elders, I hadn’t spent much time with him so I couldn’t tell where his feelings on me were.

"Who? Other morgue workers?" Elder Donovan sounded curious. Elder Donovan often spent time with Elder Stella, my favorite of the Elder Council. He would often ask questions about living situations, about blending in with society, and I didn’t feel like he was automatically putting down everything about me.

"He does teach mortuary classes. It is possible they eat here after.” Elder Stella said gently. She was the only one I felt I could trust on the Elder Council. Beyond listening to my reasons for doing things, she had actively sought out my company in the past, to more fully understand my situation. There was always the possibility for betrayal of course. The Elder Council was prone to pushing people to do what they wanted them to do.

"Maybe they're for his dates, the ones he eats?" Elder Gustave said, aged voice harsh. If there was anyone stuck in the old ways, it was Elder Gustave. He could remember a time when kitsune’s used to live more openly, trotting in and out of towns, taking what they wanted, and being revered by the people. If he could take all of us back to Japan, he would, but it was too late for that now. Even though our numbers had dwindled over time, there were still too many of us to live in such a small country.

"It's for me. I enjoy salads," I said. Closing the door behind me I crossed my arms. "Add a little horseradish and it's spicy to the tongue. I also enjoy plum wine and sake. Why are you looking in my fridge?" It was much bolder than I should be behaving, but it was because they had come uninvited. Also, it was obvious I needed to change the code on my alarm.

"We're here to discuss the problems currently surrounding you," Elder Esmun said, turning to me with a small smile. There was no way I’d believe that smile. The full Council was in my home, they weren’t here to chat. They wanted something from me. “Hello Zack, how are you?"

"I was doing better before you came for a visit without warning," I said as I put my work bag on the ground near the counter and kicked off my shoes. "Tell me why you're here."

"He just said," Elder Abigail snapped.

"I apologize, I meant in a more detailed way," I said, sighing. "You do realize I've had a trying day and I'm exhausted, right?"

"We're very sorry to burst in on you like this," Elder Stella said, coming over to me and lightly touching my hand. “However, we had no choice."

"Of course we had a choice," Elder Gustave said. His voice was like sandpaper on my nerves. He was very much like Elder Abigail. I'd swear they were meant for each other, but Abigail preferred women. Didn't stop her from having five children. "We chose the best path for our kind."

Now I was even more suspicious. "What are you talking about?" I asked, and Elder Stella motioned towards the living room.

"Why don't we sit down, talk about this?" she said and I glanced at my fridge.

"Could you close that already?" I asked, and Elder Abigail snapped it shut. "Thank you. May I also have a few moments to myself? I just got home, I'd like to wash up, and eat.”

"What are you going to eat?" Elder Donovan asked. He raised his eyebrows and glanced at the fridge. "There's nothing edible here."

I gave a strained smile. "That "rabbit food" you were talking about? I plan on eating it. I like a salad before bed.”

"It gives you nothing," Elder Stella said, looking confused.

“Not nothing. It staves off the real hunger, providing just enough nutrients to delay my need to feed.” I shrugged. "Useful, especially right now. Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom." I pushed past them and closed the door with a sigh, leaning my head against the wood. The Elders were in my home. They no doubt had something horrible in mind for me, and I wasn't going to like it. I never liked what they wanted me to do. My only hope was that it wouldn’t entirely ruin the tentative non-threatening stance I had with the brothers.


	30. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are halfway through!

By the time Dean had finished digging up the grave he was sweaty, dirty and irritable. He'd lost the coin flip and so he was going to need yet another shower when he got back to the motel. Maybe not, maybe he'd just sleep dirty and fuck the sheets.

The fence around this cemetery had been easy to get over as it hardly came to Sam's waist. There had been no one around to bother them. Occasionally a car went by, but if they saw anything interesting, they didn't stop, or call the police. At least not yet.

He heard the thunk of wood finally and called out, "I think I got something here." A few more shovels worth of dirt and there he was, facing a simple pine box. "Yep." He slammed the metal down a few times into the top, cracking the wood and pulling the pieces back. Staring down he swore. "Shit.”

"What?" Sam asked, shining his flashlight.

"It's empty," Dean said, pulling wood up to look more closely. There were nice clothes, and some jewelry, but no bones. The clothes were certainly old and weathered with time but not gross, a body hadn't decayed in them. "Always was."

"Well that's a bummer," Sam said, squatting down to look closer himself. "Do you think we should burn the rest of what's in there?"

"Yeah, couldn't hurt, could it? And I'd hate to have to dig this up again later. Pass me the salt." It fell down into his hands and Dean caught it easily, then he began pouring the salt all over the stuff in the coffin. "This is just one mess after the other, isn't it?" he said, shaking his head. "I think I'm ready for this job to be over with already." He tossed the rest of the salt up to Sam and then took the lighter fluid, squeezing a good bit of it over everything.

"Dean?" Sam said, standing up and looking around. "I think you'd better hurry."

Pulling out his lighter and flicking it, Dean swore as it didn't light. Shaking it a little to make sure there was fluid *inside* the lighter, he flicked again. "Dean!" Sam said again, this time a bit more loudly. "Seriously."

"I'm trying!" Dean said, doing it once more before it flared to life and Dean dropped it on the coffin contents.

“You need to get out of there!" Sam called before the sound of the shotgun firing, and Dean started crawling out of the grave.

"Seriously? You've got to be joking me!" he called out. Sam was looking around, eyes searching the shadows.

"She's still here," he said over his shoulder, and Dean looked around, reaching for his own gun and getting ready.

“So what’d we miss?” Dean asked, hating himself for taking this job. It had seemed like something simple and without Leviathans so that was a plus, really, it was. Only he was getting entangled with some sort of creature, he was wondering if he was going gay, and now the ghost wasn't dying. "Just great." Then there was a flash of white, and Dean shot, watching the ghost dissipate.

"I think we should get out of here," Sam said and Dean nodded.

"Yeah, but I've got to get my lighter, and the shovel. Can't leave evidence." Dean jumped back down into the grave, pulled out his lighter, singeing two fingers doing so, and then grabbed the shovel, tossing it up to the top.

"Trespassers!" a female voice called out. "Trespassers, you should not be here!"

"Yeah, we got the memo, we're leaving," Dean said, scrambling out of the grave again. He grabbed the duffle and the shovel, heading out as quickly as he could.

"You'll never leave again!" she called, and Sam shot her once more.

"Stubborn," Sam said. He glanced around, nodding when he caught Dean’s eyes. "Let's get out of here."

"Right behind you," Dean said. The two of them scrambled out, running towards the car as fast as they could. Climbing over the fence took seconds and they were just over when Sam's phone rang. "What the hell, who's calling you?" Dean asked.

Untangling his foot from the fence, Sam looked at it. "I think it's Zack."

"Dude, what the hell could he want now?"

"Don't know." Then they were tossing things into the car and Sam picked it up. "Yeah?"


	31. Zack

By the time I had managed to calm myself enough to make my salad, the Elders were sitting in my living room. All of them had glasses of what looked like red wine. I was going to believe it was wine, because anything else in my house was disturbing. If the Winchesters knew... I shivered and tried not to think about that.

The salad was nice, complete with carrot slices and cucumber, a little bit of shredded horseradish, with some oil and vinegar for dressing. I also liked cheese, so there were a few pieces of feta on top. I got myself some plum wine in an effort to instill false courage through my veins. Not too much or I’d be telling them everything about the Winchesters and I couldn’t do that. They’d kill me in my own home for working with them. Taking both my plate and my wine into the large living room, I sat in a recliner and put my food on a side table.

"Well, here we are," I said, trying to sound as though my heart wasn’t pounding fiercely with dread. I’d made the salad because I wasn't sure how much I'd actually be able to eat.

"Yes, here we are. You took long enough getting here," Elder Abigail said, glaring at me and taking a long drink from her too red glass.

"Oh let the poor boy have himself some time. We are the ones disturbing him after all,” Elder Esmun said. It was obvious he was attempting to be the voice of reason but with such ancient people around him that wasn’t likely to happen.

"We can surely talk while he eats, yes?" Elder Gustave asked. He tapped his cane against the ground impatiently. Being the eldest of the Elders, he liked to look frail so people would be lured into a sense of false security. He was quite capable of grinding people to dust still, and I knew it.

"Of course Elders," I said, bowing my head respectfully. It was difficult to play a part when one was exhausted, but I had to try. I didn’t want to completely piss them off. ”Please, share your wisdom with me." I didn't want them to share their wisdom with me. I wanted them to go away and leave me alone. Any wisdom would no doubt get me in trouble with someone and I didn't like to be in trouble. Peace, where was the peace?

"We have made a decision," Elder Donovan said, crossing his legs. The words were ritual, a signal that the council had debated something for a long time and was now ready to share the information with the people they felt needed to know about it. He looked at his brothers and sisters.

"We have made a decision," Elder Esmun said with a nod. He didn't look quite as happy as Donovan.

"We have made a decision to take care of the Winchester boys," Elder Abigail said, and she smiled like a rabid animal. She was happy, pleased, and it was incredibly disturbing. As she looked at me her eyes went to slits, the ancient kitsune power surrounding her like a soft maelstrom of intent. I felt a shiver go through me.

"We have made a decision that you should help us get rid of the Winchester boys," Elder Stella said with a frown. "This path is not without hardships, but your role will be well rewarded."

Her words made my heart freeze in my chest. "You... what?" I asked, not even able to touch the salad that was half way to my mouth.

"We have made a decision that you will help us kill the Winchester boys once and for all,” Elder Gustave repeated. He slammed his cane on the ground again. "Are you thick boy?"

"This is what comes from inbreeding too much," Elder Donovan said with a smirk. "Truly, we need to mix with our cousins in other countries."

I swallowed and put my fork down again. My stomach was twisting horribly and I felt certain I would throw up. "I... I can't do that. Do you know how quickly they'll kill me?"

"Do they know you are aware of whom they are?" Elder Stella asked, and I stared at her with wide eyes.

Could I lie? If I did, then maybe I could clue the Winchesters off about the Elders somehow. If I succeeded there was a chance they could leave and live. They were hunting the Leviathan's, a much more dangerous monster than we needed in this world, and in my opinion they were the only ones that could succeed.

Quickly I shook my head. If the Elders thought I was too indecisive then they'd figure I was lying to them. "I'm sorry, I just... you want me to help you kill them? Are you aware of how risky that is? They're... they're very experienced Hunters, and if they know what you are, then they will try to kill you."

"Let them try!" Elder Abigail snapped, standing up. "We have experience and speed on our side. Even you should be able to at least harm them! Why haven't you tried? Are you too much of a coward to face them?"

Why yes, yes I was. I couldn't say that though, so I bowed my head in shame and took several breaths. "Elders, I do not think this is wise."

"Then it is good we do not take your wisdom into consideration," Elder Gustave said with a sneer and I found it hard to breathe.

"I don't think I can, I don't think..." I said, shaking my head. "I am sorry to be an inconvenience to you Elders," I really wasn't, "But this... I cannot lie when I am afraid, and they make me VERY afraid." This was a bit of a lie, as my attraction to Dean seemed to outweigh some of the fear I had for the two of them. However, what the Elders didn’t know would not harm them. Maybe. The point was, what they did not know might keep me safe.

"You don't need to do much," Elder Stella said, and then she was over by me, a hand on my shoulder. "Dear child, all you have to do is call them. Tell them you found something in the last body that they need to see. You can meet them at the morgue. You aren’t even going, we'll handle the rest. Can't you do that tiny thing for us?" Her voice was so gentle that it calmed me down a great deal.

"I... Elder Stella, do you really feel this is the best course of action?" I asked and Elder Abigail sneered.

"It is none of your concern what we think is best for our kind. You have turned your back on us for most of your life," Elder Abigail said.

"I didn't turn my back on you!" I snapped, looking up at Elder Abigail. "You *left* me to *humans*! I learned to survive!"

"We left you with them so you would see how much better than them you are!" Elder Donovan snapped back at me with a frown. "Why did you not see that?"

"Because we aren't!" I returned, closing my eyes briefly on the collective gasp of the Elders. "We have a right to live, so do they."

"We were created to feast on their flesh, not to eat grass to curb our desires!" Elder Gustave cried out in anger.

"I apologize for angering you," I wasn't sad for doing it in the least. "I merely - " but I was cut off.

"You will do this thing because it is your duty. If you dare not, we will kill you here," Elder Abigail said, voice cold and crisp. I shivered at the mere thought that she wasn't joking, and when I looked into her eyes, I knew she wasn't.

Swallowing, I nodded. "Yes Elders," I said in a very small voice. "When must I do this?” How could I help Dean when the Elders were requesting this? With the threat of the Winchesters over one shoulder and the threat of the Elders over the other, I wasn’t sure how I would manage to make it out of this alive.


	32. Sam

"Hello, Detective?" Zack's voice came through the phone, and Sam shut the car door behind himself.

"Zack, it's fine, what's up?" Sam asked. He looked around, hoping the ghost wasn't able to come out of the cemetery. When he glanced back at Dean, he mouthed what was going on and Sam shrugged.

"Yes, Detective, I was just looking over the evidence again," Zack cleared his throat and paused briefly. Odd. "And... I've found something curious on the body."

"What?" Sam asked. He wanted to ask a million questions, because in all the conversations with Zack, none had been so stilted. 

"I don't feel comfortable discussing it over the phone, could you meet me Detective?" Every sentence had the word Detective in it. Zack had never called them Detective so many times. Zack’s voice raised and Sam could hear the breath on the other end of the phone getting louder, and faster.

"Where?" Sam felt fairly certain their conversation was being listened to. He couldn’t fathom what had happened to Zack for that to be an issue.

"At the..." Zack took a shaky breath. "Morgue. Please, can you come to, *here*, to the morgue?" The stress on the word here made Sam feel certain Zack wasn’t at the morgue for the moment.

"Is everything alright Zack?" Sam asked. He frowned at his brother. It was obvious Zack wasn’t, but he had to ask, to know how closely the conversation was being monitored.

"Yes, yes, everything is fine." Then a pause. "Please come quickly." Very closely monitored. His thought that the conversation was being listened to felt more likely.

"Okay, we'll be there in..." Sam looked over at Dean. "How long before we can get to the morgue?"

"I don't know, ten minutes?" Dean said, frowning. Sam could practically read the questions on Dean’s face, but he didn’t dare answer any of them yet.

"Give us about ten minutes, okay? We'll be there Zack." He was hoping by saying that he’d reassure Zack, but without seeing the other man, he had no idea if it was working or not.

"Great, because I really need you to come quickly." Then Zack hung up and Sam pulled the phone from his ear, staring at it. The stress that they came quickly made him feel like they should either head there as fast as possible, or go slowly so whatever was waiting for them could be snuck up on.

"What is it Sam?" Dean finally demanded and Sam looked at him with a shake of his head.

"I don't know exactly. I think we should head to the morgue, but... take it slow, something's not right. Zack said he found something curious on the body, but he didn't say which one. Also, he said he was at the morgue, only I swear he said he was going home.” Sam paused. "And he kept calling me Detective."

"Like it was a bad word? Condescendingly like?" Dean asked with raised eyebrows.

"No," Sam considered that. Zack had barely ever said the word detective to Sam, and the way he’d done it this time wasn’t like any of the other times. "Like he meant it,” Sam said as he realized what the difference was.

"That's weird." Dean began to drive out and Sam nodded.

“I think we should go in with weapons. I also think that his call was being listened in on. I don’t know if both sides were or not.”

“Good idea. Know which ones we should take in case Zack tries to kill us?”

“Zack wouldn’t.” Sam sighed. "Seriously Dean, I hate it when..." he trailed off as he got a text. It was one word. "Amy". "We'd better take knives," he whispered.


	33. Dean

Dean didn't really care what was after him, because as a general rule he liked to kill things. Monsters of every variety met their deaths at his hands, and he didn't *care*. He'd gone into traps before, because that's what Hunters did sometimes in order to do the right thing, save the right people. In order to... well, in his case, in order to feel like he was making up for the shit he'd done in Hell.

The atmosphere was heavy around him as they slipped into the hospital. Through the dark he could feel the weight of the air, was tensed for the enemies hidden in the shadows. This wasn’t his style, he much preferred to bust in with guns blazing and destroy anything that came near him. He couldn’t help the glance over his shoulder as he wondered how many things they were going to be fighting. Without a valid way of finding the number, he figured he had to just go with “a lot”. They were decked out in knives because Sam had told him he thought they were going up against kitsune’s. Dean didn’t care, he’d slice up anything that looked at him wrong.

This area of the hospital was dark, the hallway lit with soft lights and he walked next to Sam with his head high. The key to making someone think you belonged somewhere was to act like you did, and he’d had enough practice at that swagger that he did it with ease.

"This is kind of creepy," Sam said under his breath and Dean huffed out a small laugh.

"Yes it is. So why are we here again?” He didn’t really care, his fingers were starting to itch with the desire to kill something and as the ghost had evaded them for another night he was willing to take out just about anything. Hopefully something fleshy so he could really work off some steam.

“We’re here because Zack called. We owe it to him to see what he called about.” Sam paused and frowned. “I wonder if we should have passed his house first to see if he was there.”

"Too late now," Dean said, walking towards the lit door and reaching for the handle. "'Cause we're here."

The morgue was empty. Not a soul in sight. Dean looked in every corner he could find, fingers moving to the knife in his belt. Smelled like a trap to him.

"Zack? We're here,” Sam called out. Dean saw his eyes sweep the other side of the room.

"Hey, Zack!" Dean called as well. He tensed as he listened for a response, any response. “Where are you and what's so interesting?" He heard the sound just before the door opened and turned to face the threat.

"You, here in our trap," the woman said as several people slipped into the room. Each door opened to let in at least one person, and one came off an examination table, the white sheet that had been over him tossed to the ground. The movements of each person were slow and careful. It was more like they were a single unit with multiple arms instead of several people.

"What's this?" Dean tried to disarm them with a grin, fingers closing around his knife even as he held his other hand out. Each of the faces he looked at were beautiful, all the same oriental decent, hair pulled back and up. “You’re too pretty to get blood all over your nails.”

"Who are you?" Sam asked, keeping his voice steady. Dean could feel him like a carefully balanced weight next to him. Sharp and poised, ready to strike.

“You don’t need to know that. The only thing you need to know is that you’re going to die." She grinned as claws sprouted from her fingertips. “And I look gorgeous with blood all over my nails.”

There were five of them for the two Winchesters, and Dean felt a little insulted. After all, if one was going to try to ambush them, then one should bring an army out. The woman who had spoken struck first, launching herself at Dean, bringing her claws across him as he pulled out his knife and sliced up. Each of them drew blood, but neither stopped. Next to him he could hear Sam fighting as well, but he couldn’t look over yet. The wild kitsune broad was keeping him focused for the moment.

Damn those talons were sharp. Each time she backed away from him someone else would take her place, their movements calculated and practiced so much that they were executed flawlessly. It took a moment for him to find a weakness in it and twist his knife in to kill his first. Judging by the sound of the thumps on the ground he had his down at least a few seconds before Sammy did. He took a step backwards and Sam was there, warm along his back. They carefully started circling, the three remaining kitsune’s watching just as closely as Sam and Dean were for an opening.

Both groups moved at the same time, and all too soon the floor was slippery with blood, making them all a little more clumsy. A set of doors opened and three more came in to join the fight. Dean growled as he finished killing another. He held up his knife, hand and arm soaked in blood. “What the hell?” he swore. “Get the message already, we aren’t that easy to kill.” He’d asked for more of a challenge, but he should have kept his mind shut.

"Where's Zack?" Sam asked as he crouched and took in a steadying breath. Dean couldn’t imagine why Sam even cared, obviously the coroner had planned this. Gave Dean proof that Zack wasn’t a wimp and was perfectly capable of killing people. Even if he wasn’t willing to do it himself. There was a feeling twisting in his gut that he refused to name.

"Zack?" one of the newcomers asked, sneering. "Who do you think set you two up? Zack's doing this for the benefit of our race. You die so more may live."

"There are always more Hunters," Dean said with a grin. If they thought they were saving themselves from hunters they were so very wrong. People would be pissed they were dead. They might not have very many friends, but there were plenty of people willing to fight in the name of vengeance. "You can't kill us all."

"No? Maybe not, but we can kill you." He laughed and launched himself at Dean.

"So you think." Dean managed to get the words out even as he steadied his knife and continued slashing.


	34. Zack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... NaNoWriMo... it kinda ate my life there. Sorry I wasn't updating on schedule. I'll be back to it now!
> 
> On the plus side, I finished book 2 in my merman series and I'm back to editing book 1. <3

By the time I managed to get away from the Elders and out to the hospital, I wasn't sure what I was going to find. Sam and Dean dead maybe? A burned down hospital was also a possibility, I wasn’t actually sure I was going to have a job in the morning. I didn’t really want to see the bodies, but I’d told myself I was going to help, and by every deity I was going to do it.

This section of the building was quiet, and I pulled into the parking space next to their car. They hadn’t left yet, if they were still alive, and I slipped out of the car and into the building as quietly as I could. If I was found by my own kind I would be in very, very big trouble, so I crept slowly and as silently as was physically possible for me. It was also possible that the Elders were just going to kill me, for insurance or something, but I was banking on the hope that they thought I was so cowardly that I wouldn’t try to help the Winchesters.

Near the morgue I heard voices. There were at least two, no, three, my ears could tell the differences in pitch and I breathed a sigh of relief when I recognized both Sam and Dean's voices. Silently I walked to the door to listen in.

"See, we can do this the hard way or... no, actually, there's only the hard way," Dean was saying, and his voice was velvet soft danger, invoking that fear I had in the pit of my stomach. It made me want to vomit.

"I don't know what you think you're going to get out of me. I won't tell you anything you want to know." That was one of my kind, I could hear the slight tilt to his voice, the quality that wasn't quite human.

"You've already told us a lot. For one, we know that Zack sold us out, and we know that this was supposed to kill us. You're all kitsune, so this must be some sort of vengeance thing, right? Is it about Amy's son?" Dean asked, and I shivered. No, no, of course he would wonder.

"Not even likely. He's too young. You don't know the half of it. Zack's hosting an Elder, someone so powerful they can kill you without even blinking.” Shit! Don't tell them that, Dean knows where my house is, he'll head right for them and get himself killed! I started to panic, but wasn’t sure if I should be walking in the room or not.

"Oh, then we should stop by sometime, pay our respects." It was said so offhandedly that I wasn’t sure if Dean was joking or not.

"Dean," Sam said cautiously. "I just don't think..."

"Sammy, we discussed this. He's dead." Dean's voice was firm, final. Was he talking about me? Was he going to kill me? Was this it, no more chances to defend myself, no explaining what was going on? Shit. What did I do next then?

"Dean, I think we need to..." but he trailed off at the sound of a gurgle.

"Well, he's no use to us anymore. What do we do with the bodies?"

What did they do with how many bodies? What if... I was so going to regret this. "You should burn them," I said, voice quavering as I opened the door. Both Sam and Dean had their weapons ready as I came into the room. "Oh, what a mess," I moaned, looking around. There was blood splattered everywhere, no less than ten bodies on the ground and the smell... it was like returning to the cemetery and going into a crypt or something. The stench of death was overpowering.

"What do you want from us?" Sam asked. His eyes were narrowed, knife clenched tightly in his hand as he stared at me. Just as I suspected there was no trust left in his gaze. "One minute you're begging for your life, the next you send *these* people after us? What's the game Zack?"

"I'm so gonna kill you," Dean said as he started walking towards me. I turned to look at him quickly, feeling the fear, letting it show on my face as I raised my hands up in surrender.

"I was trying to warn you," I said as quickly as I could. "I gave you what you needed to kill them, I didn't use your names so they wouldn't know I knew you, thereby giving me the opportunity to speak in a way that should have clued you off." I turned my gaze to Sam, a different kind of fear tugging at me. Had it been too subtle? "It *did* clue you off, didn't it?"

"Yeah, we knew something was going on, we just didn’t know what.” Sam sighed and his hand lowered. He still wasn’t happy, but at least he wasn’t actively threatening me for the moment.

"I couldn't do any better, I was being watched. I wasn’t even just that, they were practically breathing down my neck as I called you." If I got everything out as quickly as possible, then maybe I’d survive.

"They?" Dean asked, pausing and raising his eyebrows.

"The Elders. Look, I can't talk about it, and I can't stay long, I just..." I felt my face flush and I looked down. "I wasn't sure what was happening and I wanted to see if I could help." My voice was soft, and I knew that I sounded weak but... what else was I supposed to do?

"You wanted to see if we were dead you mean," Dean snapped. He started scratching at his arm which drew my attention. I frowned as I saw several line of scratches down his body.

"No, that wasn't what I wondered, not in the way you're suggesting anyway.” I spoke absently as I took a step closer, looking at the way his skin was turning white.

"You sure about that? Because honestly, hey! Back off!" Dean shoved his blade in my face as I reached for his arm.

"You're poisoned," I said, grasping his hand and pulling it off of his arm. "Dean, you've got to get this treated, how many times did she scratch you?" Kitsune poisons were incredibly dangerous, carefully cultivated and created to cause lingering and often very painful deaths. You had to train for years with them before you’d be allowed to use them on your own, and it was usually women who managed to pass the lessons.

"I don't know, I was fighting at the time," he said, slapping at my hands. "Stop touching me."

I looked up at him, certain of one thing, even if I wasn't certain of anything else. "If you don't let me take care of that and any other scratches she may have inflicted on you, you might die before the night is out. They... they put poisons under their nails so when they damage you they know you’ll die one way or the other. I can help."

"Great, some freaky kitsune poison. Like the claws aren't dangerous enough," Dean snarled. "Thanks, but I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Dean, are you sure about that?" Sam asked, looking between me and him quickly. His brows were drawn together and I saw him clean the knife before putting it away. ”I mean, we don't know what kind of poison it is."

"Sam, we'll be fine, let's just get out of here and get home to clean up.” Dean hastily cleaned off his blade as well, looking around at the mess before starting to move towards the door I’d come in from.

"I don't recommend it," I said. There were so many problems with what he was suggesting. "The Elders have your motel surrounded."

"Why are you telling us this Zack?" Sam asked and I took a deep breath. 

"Look, I don't want you two dead, alright? I think you're doing what you can to keep us all alive, and I appreciate that. I can't openly go against the Elders, or they'll kill me. That doesn't mean I have to agree with them." Being sneaky to get my way, that could be seen as something good in the eyes of the Elders. Underhandedness was usually okay as long as it didn’t hurt one of our own, but blatant disregard of what the Elders wanted? That would kill me.

"Where do you think we should go?" Sam asked, and Dean wobbled a bit, slipping on the blood on the ground.

"We're not going anywhere he recommends," Dean said.

"Dean!" Sam and I said at the same time and we both reached his side within moments of each other.

"You've got to lie down, I need to get as much of this out of you as I can, and then you have to be cleaned properly. There’s herbs to counteract any of the types of poisons she might have used, but if I don’t get started soon I’m going to have less time to test out different things.” I shook my head. “Come to my house. I have a building out in the woods no one knows about, there's everything we need there."

"Isn't that a little close in proximity to the Elders you're so worried about?" Sam asked and I nodded at him.

“They’ll never guess I’d take you there. I can park in the driveway and meet you at the road. From there it’s just a little hike in the backyard. I can get everything we might need to a hotel, but it would take longer, and you’d have to wait for me so there’d be less time to prevent death. Even though the Elders are in my house, I can clean your sent off from the shower in the basement and they shouldn’t be able to tell what’s your scent and what’s not. It should be okay.” I hoped.

"No Sam," Dean said, shaking his head. "We're not." He stood up and started taking a few steps towards the door.

"He'll die," I said, looking at Sam. "He'll really die." I couldn’t stress enough how badly things could go.

"No he won't," Sam said firmly. "Because you won't let him." There was a threat in his voice, and I felt it. There was very little Sam wouldn’t do for his brother. If he thought I stepped one toe out of line, he’d kill me, and then struggle to fix his brother.

I was surprisingly okay with this. With a nod, I said, "Okay. Let's get him there."


	35. Sam

Getting Dean to the car had been a bit of a nightmare. He’d taken off down the hall and between one step and the next he’d fallen straight to the ground. Neither Sam nor Zack had been close enough to catch him but Sam had been by his side a moment later. Dean had been unresponsive so Sam had to carry him to the car. Now he was splayed across the back seat, Zack’s coat tucked under his head.

Sam followed Zack closely, glancing at Dean in the rear view mirror as they traveled. His face was incredibly pale, and the edges of his skin seemed almost tinted green. If they didn’t help him soon, Sam wasn’t sure he was going to make it. Trusting Zack this much wasn’t something Sam had a choice on, but it felt foolish to do so. Contrary to Dean’s belief, Sam didn’t rush into danger, and he didn’t trust people that much anymore either.

Luckily the neighborhood was quiet and Zack pulled down his driveway very soon. Sam slowed down, following the road as Zack’s car disappeared from sight down the hill. There was a road into a development ahead, and Sam approached it very cautiously, turning down when he was able. If that yard was all Zack’s property then Sam could understand why Dean had been so keen on looking through it. It was immense.

Sam pulled to the side of the road and turned off his headlights. It was time to wait for Zack, and he wasn’t waiting long before the man slipped up a slope and across the sidewalk. Rolling down the window, Sam waited for Zack to speak.

“Park in that first driveway,” Zack said as he pointed across the street. “That little carport on the left is for me.”

“Why?” Sam asked as he glanced at the huge driveway Zack had. “Seems a little much, doesn’t it?”

“I do a lesson from my house,” Zack said, glancing at Dean. “I have permission to let some of the students park here if there aren’t spots along my driveway.”

Zack moved away from the car as Sam shook his head and pulled into the driveway. He had hardly turned the car off when Zack was opening the passenger side. “Shit, we have to get moving right away. What do you want to take with you, I’ll carry it since I can’t take Dean.”

Sam got Dean out of the car, slung him over his shoulder, then motioned to the duffle bag. "Can you take that?" he asked, and he watched Zack carefully as he pulled the bag out, nearly dropping it before hefting it over his shoulder.

"Damn," Zack hissed. "You two have very strong arms." Then he walked across the street and down the hill on the other side of the stream from the house. He glanced around briefly before heading into the woods. The trees were thick and it was easy to tell that Zack spent a certain amount of time out here, as he slipped easily between brush and tree, along a path that wasn’t more than a foot across. Sam stayed close on his heels so he didn’t lose sight of Zack, and it didn’t take long for the forest to merge with tall bamboos.

Nestled deep in the bamboo forest was a small shack made entirely of wood, painted to match the bamboo around it. There was a small door that Zack went up to, opening it and heading in without looking to see if Sam was behind him. Sam glanced around before entering, relaxing a little when he realized that he couldn’t see the house from here, so it was doubtful that they could be spotted.

Inside was a cot on one wall, a fire pit in the ground a few feet away from the cot, a small table with two stools and a large rug along the wall opposite the cot. Zack put the duffle next to the table and motioned to the bed. “Put Dean there,” he said as he reached for the edge of the rug and pulled it back, revealing a trap door. “I’ll be right back.”

Sam carefully set Dean down on the cot as Zack disappeared from sight. He made sure that Dean was arranged well and shook his head. “You do like to get into trouble, don’t you?” he said softly, trying to calm his heart, which seemed to want to beat in his throat instead of his chest.

It was always like this, it seemed. Very rarely did they make it through anything without one of them getting banged up. Rarely had they needed someone else to mix an antidote though. He pulled Dean’s jacket off, placing that on the foot of the bed and then worked on getting Dean out of his shirt. No doubt Zack would need to clean the wounds and in order to do that he’d have to get at Dean’s skin.

Just before he pulled the shirt off, Sam paused, looking over his brother. There were times like this when he felt incredibly self conscious stripping Dean. Some small part of his brain told him that he *shouldn’t* be doing that, even though the rest of him was aware that there was no actual issue. Maybe it had to do with knowing how many people paired him with his brother in fanfiction. He took in a breath, and pulled it off.

"Good," Zack's voice came from the ground, and Sam looked down at him. "You're getting his clothes off. All scratches will need to be tended, so..." he swallowed and steadied his voice. "You may as well strip him down to... you know." Sam smirked at Zack as he saw the other man's face flush. Zack shook his head and walked over to the table, a basket attached to his back.

"Yeah, I know," Sam chuckled, then turned away from Zack in order to do that. Even though he knew he had to think of Zack as an enemy, namely because of what had recently happened, he was still incredibly amused by the obvious attraction Zack had for Dean. He took of Dean’s socks and shoes, following those with the pants a moment later. Dean groaned and started curling up in a ball making Sam gently pull him straight again.

"Go downstairs and at the pump get a bucket of water," Zack instructed. He came over, a blanket in his hands. "I'll need to get some clean water for this, and I have to start the fire."

"Won't that be seen from the house?" Sam asked. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to themselves.

"Yeah, but this is close enough to the development so it could be mistaken as smoke from any one of those houses." Zack took a breath. "Trust me?" he asked, and Sam found that, for the moment at least, he did.

Nodding, he climbed down the ladder and looked around. It was three times the size of the upstairs. There was an old fashioned pump along one wall with two buckets near it. Oil lamps were lit around the room and there was a drying rack for herbs hanging. In the middle of the room was a large table with knives, clippers, a mortar and pestle, and several bundles of herbs. On the far wall was a door, and although the top floor was wood, everything down here was concrete.

He went over to the pump, and after several tries, the water finally started pouring out of it and into the small basin underneath the spout. Sam rinsed out a bucket and filled it with water, then brought it over to the ladder, carefully climbing so he didn’t spill.

When his head popped out to look at the main room, Dean was covered in the blanket and Zack had a small fire going. He looked over at Sam and reached out for the bucket, which Sam handed to him.

"Great," Zack said, pulling a hook that was attached to the ceiling out of the wall. He hung the bucket on the hook and stood, wiping his hands off on his pants. "You're not going to like the rest of this," he said. "I have to clean the wounds, best I can, then try to drain any lingering poison out of him. This will be painful. I suggest a gag for him, and you might have to hold him down." Zack held Sam's gaze solidly. "You *have* to help, or he's going to die. So... you can do this, right?" Zack finished with a wince and Sam nodded his head.

"Of course I can," he said. He wasn’t pleased about the idea of gagging his brother, but he could at least recognize that they had to do their best to not draw attention to themselves.

"Good," Zack breathed a sigh of relief. He closed the trap door before going over to the cot and pulling it away from the wall. "I suggest the gag first." He held out a bandana with a knot tied in the middle of it. Then he went right to Dean's mouth and gently pried it open, slipping the knot in. His hands moved down Dean's cheeks and over the few claw marks there, a frown on his face. "It doesn't look like the wounds on his face have poison, so we'll wait on those until the rest are taken care of." Sam was already taking his place on the other side of the cot when Zack tied the gag behind Dean's head. Dean's eyes opened wide as he looked at Sam.

"Whf fuf..,” he tried to say, and Sam reached out to take one of Dean's hands in his own. 

"Dean, this is going to hurt, and you can't make too much noise. Zack's only doing this to help keep you quiet."

"You can bite down as much as you need to," Zack said, taking a slow step away from the bed. "Okay? I'm sorry for the pain you're going to be in, but I'm not sorry about doing this."

Dean's eyes were flickering between Sam and Zack, and Sam took in a breath as Dean began to struggle against him. "Donf du ds," he said, and Sam leaned down to hold Dean as still as he could.

"Hey, I'm right here Dean, I'm not leaving. Okay? I won’t let him murder you” He squeezed Dean's hand. "Just... hold on.”

Zack moved away and then came back with a bowl full of steaming water and a wash cloth. He moved a stool over and set the bowl down on it. “First the arm, how about," he said as he got the washcloth damp. His voice was soft and soothing. It didn't really matter much for Dean, Sam knew he didn't trust that kind of tone. He held Dean's hands and kept Dean’s gaze as Zack got started. Sam would not leave Dean’s side until this was done.


	36. Zack

Dean’s screams would haunt me for the rest of my life. Even muffled as they were, they had come from the pit of pain itself, and I hated inflicting that sort of pain on anyone, much less someone who I... I what? Had a crush on? Liked? Sitting down on the stool as I applied the salve onto one of the wounds, I tried to come up with the appropriate word. I could hear Sam washing up downstairs, Dean was passed out, and I was alone for the moment with the goop and a comatose, beautiful body.

I liked Dean, and I liked Sam, which was interesting. I doubted I'd ever fantasize about kissing Sam though, and I had already done that in relation to Dean. Actually, I had already kissed Dean. My cheeks flushed as my hand dipped into the salve and spread it across the last bit of leg wound Dean had. It should help encourage healing across all the wounds. Even as well studied as I was, I was having trouble coming up with the exact nature of my attraction to Dean. For some reason it felt deeper than a simple crush. “Like” wasn’t quite strong enough either, but I supposed I could use it, because I knew I didn’t love the man. If I did, I couldn’t be afraid of him, and I was still incredibly afraid of him.

I was tying the last bandage on Dean when Sam came back up, and I looked at him. "Hey," I said softly, trying not to wake up Dean. It wasn’t likely that I would because he’d passed out from the agony, but I didn’t know for sure and I didn’t want to risk it. "I made enough that you should be able to reapply this up to four times, and hopefully I’ll be back before you run out. There is more wood downstairs through that door and to the right, I suggest keeping a small fire going if you can, so you can boil water. The pump downstairs is linked to the pond, so you won't run out. If you have to leave, just be careful. I’m sure they’re going to be watching.”

"Where are you going?" Sam asked and I gave a small, derisive, laugh. This I was not looking forward to.

"Back to the house. I have to go, if I don't, they'll know something’s not right. I already can't guarantee your safety, but I’ll do whatever I can to protect you. I'll strip in the basement and throw my clothes right into the wash and take a shower down there too, so your scent should be off me before I even go upstairs. I don't think..." I was babbling and couldn’t seem to stop. Taking a deep breath to try to steady myself, I went on. ”I don't know what's going to happen."

"Aren't they going to know you were involved?" Sam asked and I shrugged.

"I don't know.” Worst of all, that was my biggest fear. If they know for a fact I was involved, I might not make it through the day. Night, whatever. “I don't think there were any other kit’s around to notice me, but I could be wrong. It’s possible I won’t make it out of the house alive, so make sure to change the bandages twice a day, more if he's bleeding through." I didn’t think Sam would risk Dean’s life, but I had to know Sam knew what to do.

"I'll watch over him," Sam nodded.

"Good. When he wakes up, make sure he gets some water, if I can, I'll bring some food over later tomorrow." I watched Sam's face as emotions flickered across it. I couldn't keep up with all of them, so I nodded and glanced at Dean. "Yeah, keep safe." Then I went to the door, opened it, and headed out.

I took a quick dip in all my clothes into the stream to help mask the scent of blood, pain and the Winchesters. I was shivering as I slipped into the garage and began pulling my clothes off, dumping them into the washer. Once it was going, I took a shower, sighing under the heat of the water. I couldn’t relax, because the Elders were still in my house, but at least for the moment I could forget them. I could think of Dean instead, and his strong arms, and the lovely tan across most of his body, and… no, no I had to stop that train of thought because I was already screwed. And the moment was over so I stepped out of the shower and began drying myself off.

I wrapped a towel around my waist and slipped up the stairs, walking as silently as I could through the house. I was hopeful that even though they could hear me walking, they wouldn’t bother to check who was up. When I got to the guest room though I saw the door was wide open and I paused, body going ridged when I glanced into the room. I was caught.

"Hello Zack," Elder Abigail said and I nodded at her, standing up straighter. I was caught, there was no use trying to hint I wasn’t. "What are you doing up so late at night?" she asked and I motioned to my nude and still damp body.

"I took a quick shower Elder," I said. "I had a bad dream and I needed to get rid of the memory of it." Stick to possibilities, do my best not to lie too much.

"Is that so? Why did you go downstairs when there are two perfectly good showers upstairs?" she asked, voice like velvet over a sharp blade. I shivered at the threat implied in her tone. The questions were innocent enough but I knew the terror behind them. One wrong step and I was dead.

"I knew you slept softly Elder, and I wished to prevent you from waking up. It seems I am very bad at this however, I apologize for causing you duress.” Was she buying it? I wasn't sure she was. Elder Abigail wasn’t one to believe anything she didn’t want to believe, and I was fairly certain she knew what she thought to be true. My story was not it.

"Truly? Even though there are people sleeping downstairs as well?" She raised her eyebrows at me, a mock surprise that both of us knew wasn’t real. This was a game now, and she was the snake.

"They are more hearty sleepers Elder Abigail, and your sleep is so important, I thought the inconvenience was worth it." If only I could make her believe me. Each lie felt like it was lying between us, a weight on the end of the noose wrapped around my neck. I wasn’t good at this kind of game, and my breath was coming a little short. My heart beat in my throat, and I didn’t even have to have my enhanced senses to know fear was wafting off of me in waves.

"I see. Tell me then Zack, why did you leave so long ago, if it was just a nightmare you had?" Had she been awake the entire time I was gone? That was… that was hours now that she had been waiting for me to return. Was she guessing, or did she have proof?

I took a breath and shook my head. Somehow I had to remain calm. "I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered and she stood up.

"You left the house Zack, I'm not stupid. What were you doing out of the house, late at night, when you were supposed to be asleep in your bed?" I swallowed and continued to shake my head. I was so caught. What the hell were they going to do to me now and would I survive it?

"I... I believe you are mistaken Elder," I whispered, but she walked right to me and backed me into the glass cabinet outside the door. "I... have only been awake for a brief amount of time." Shit, was that the right thing to say? I didn’t know anymore what I was doing, and I’d stopped thinking about what to say before speaking.

"We've been waiting for you to come back for the last hour Zack," she said smoothly, one hand reaching up to brush against my cheek and the shiver became a full out shake as I glanced behind her and saw Elder Gustave sitting next to Elder Donovan, both of them watching us.

"You just came back a little while ago, certainly, but you have not been honest with me. Where were you most of this hour?" she asked, her voice near my ear as her body pressed against mine. I hissed in a breath as a sharp claw slid down my side, not quite deep enough to make me bleed, just deep enough to mark.

"I..." I gasped. "I was just taking a shower." Stick with my story, I had to just stick with my story.

"Liar!" she hissed, and she backed away enough to slash that claw and the rest on her hand, across my side. I sucked in a breath as the pain flashed through me and blood began to flow. She licked her fingers, lips curving up in a cruel smile. "You cannot expect us to believe you.”

"It... it's the truth." There was no way I was giving up Sam and Dean. They'd be sure to survive if I did, and then they'd come kill me. I'd rather be tortured. Given the dark look in her eyes, I was pretty sure that was what was coming next.


	37. Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As soon as I think I'm back together, I fall sick for a freekin' week and can't even stand to look at a computer screen. Sorry.

That night it rained, and Sam looked up from his book to listen to the sound of it for a moment. He'd been watching Dean for a while but it was incredibly boring to watch someone sleep. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and had pulled out the book he’d stashed in his duffle. It was an old book, pages faded, cover torn, read so many times he didn’t even need to look at the words to know what was happening. It was better than worrying about Dean though, better than wondering if Zack was still alive, and without internet he couldn’t really do research on the ghost either.

When Dean mumbled, Sam opened his eyes. The rain was still pounding on the roof, had he been sleeping? He blinked a few times rapidly and looked at his brother, who was slowly opening his eyes. They were sleep glazed and he looked like he wasn't really focused yet.

"Hey," Sam said softly, putting down the book and reaching out to lightly place a hand on one of Dean's wrists. "How are you feeling Dean?"

"Hot," Dean mumbled, and he moved a wobbly hand towards the blanket. Sam got there first, pulling the top of it down a little so Dean could cool off.

"You're sweating," Sam said, brushing his fingers across Dean's forehead in concern. It was damp and hot. Zack had warned him that Dean might run feverish for a few hours but it still worried Sam. Sam was an expert at worrying.

"Yeah?" Dean said, his voice heavy. "Can't seem to focus," he mumbled. "What'd you do to me?" Sam got up and went to the bowl of water, squeezing out the washcloth before coming back to wash off some of the sweat.

“First we got as much poison out of you as we could. After that he mixed some ground herbs into the wounds, trying different mixes until the skin stopped being green.” Sam took in a breath. That had been the most frightening part for him because he had no idea what Zack was doing. The one good thing was that Zack was focused, incredibly focused. He’d been able to see when Zack got things right, because Zack had completely relaxed for a moment. “Then he started covering all your wounds with this tacky stuff. Something from the Amish, he said it would help everything heal and it wouldn’t interfere with the herbs.” Sam frowned and focused on his brother again, instead of his thoughts. “Anyway, you're hot, but he said that's normal so long as it doesn’t linger.”

"You let him... Sammy, you let him treat me?" Dean asked with narrowed eyes, staring up at Sam like he intended on doing something to him. Which he couldn’t, because Sam knew Dean wasn’t strong enough to carry out a single threat Dean might offer. “What... what'd he do? What... is he gonna kill us?"

"Dean," Sam said in exasperation. He ran his hand down Dean's arm, a gesture of comfort the only thing he could give Dean while he was still so out of it. "It's nothing like that. He worked, really hard, to make you better. He isn't trying to kill you." Dean might not believe it, but Sam had seen proof. For whatever reason, Zack was helping them.

"Where is he? I'mma... punch him," Dean looked around himself for a moment. "Where..?"

"He's back at the main house. He's trying to..." Sam trailed off and paused. He would have worked harder to keep Zack here but he had seen the resolve in Zack’s face. Sam didn’t think it was safe, no matter what Zack had said, and if it had been Sam’s decision, he’d have kept Zack for the night and blown up the house the next day. He probably could have forced Zack to stay, but he wasn’t going to take that bit of choice away. Zack may seem defenseless, but when he was determined to do something, he’d shown an amazing amount of backbone.

"What Sammy?" Dean asked, all strength gone so he slumped into the bed again. His gaze returned to Sam. "He's what?"

"Trying to lead his Elders astray," Sam said. Dean's eyes got wide.

"You let him go?" he breathed and Sam could see there was fear now in Dean’s gaze.

"Yeah, I let him go." Sam couldn’t help cataloguing each and every reaction Dean had to things that Zack did. In one moment he was ready to hurt Zack, determined not to trust the other man at all. The next moment he was scared *for* Zack, and that was such a twist around that Sam couldn’t even follow what was going on with his brother anymore. He thought there must be an attraction at least, but did it go deeper? Sam had thought Dean was interested in Cas too, but Dean hadn’t ever done anything about it if it had been there. Now, Sam wasn’t going to even ask, because Cas was gone forever and he’d betrayed Dean. That was going to eat Dean up for the rest of his life.

"He's gonna get himself dead.” Dean closed his eyes. "He's gonna die 'cause he's weak."

"Maybe," Sam agreed. He almost wished his brother would go back to sleep, because he didn’t think Dean should be exerting so much effort. "But he explained everything I needed to know to take care of the wounds so I can make sure you don’t get sick again. If he doesn’t make it, we’ll finish the job and get the hell out of here.” Sam wasn’t sure he wanted Zack to die, but he hadn’t wanted all kinds of people to die, and they’d done it anyway. Life wasn’t fair, and living in this particular world made that even worse.

“Everything?” Dean asked, and the eyes opened again. He was more focused now, like his head was finally awake. "What'cha mean?"

“Bandage twice a day after putting on the salve. He left the recipe for the herb mixture downstairs in case you start to show signs of still being poisoned. If he’s not back by the time I run out of the salve, you’ll probably be in good enough shape that we can just leave.” He hoped at any rate. “Zack said not to move for at least a day.”

"We gotta stay here for a day?" Dean asked wth a sigh.

"Yeah. Dean, I don't think you can walk, and even if you could, I don't think you should. It'll encourage the wounds to open and from there they're more likely to bleed. You've lost enough blood as it is." His brother was so reckless it was sometimes surprising that he was even still alive. Of course, he had died several times.

"What about you?" Dean asked, and Sam shrugged.

“He took a look after you passed out, but nothing was poisoned. Apparently there’s only one in a group like that that has poison on their claws. A hierarchy thing. I suggested he could tell me more, but he rolled his eyes and said no. I didn’t push it.” He thought he probably could, but it was understandable that Zack wouldn’t want to tell them things that could make it easier for them to kill kitsune’s. Sam wasn’t sure he’d have given the information away either.

"You talked to him a lot," Dean said with surprisingly little animosity behind the words. Sam couldn’t help the nod, and the small smile.

"Yeah, for a little. While he was working on you anyway. He almost passed out when he worked the first poison cut and you started threatening him around the gag. I thought he would need the distraction, and he did. I think it was hurting him to hurt you, even though he knew it was necessary.” He wasn’t even fully certain Zack could have gotten through it without the distraction.

"Yeah, right," Dean rolled his eyes and tried to sit up. Sam reached out and put a hand on Dean's chest, pressing down lightly but firmly. "I bet he loved hurting me."

"Not at all. Stay down," Sam said with a glare, and Dean glared back.

"Don't want to."

"Do it anyway."

Still glaring, Dean finally lay back, and Sam relaxed. "Fine," he grumbled. "So, he's one of them? A kitsune?”

"Yeah," Sam nodded. “He never actually used the word in connection to himself, but he may as well have. Several times. He’s going against everything his people want, for you, which is kind of a big deal. Try to remember that Dean.”

“I will, but he’s stupid." Dean looked away and at the wall. "I think I'm going to sleep some more then Sammy. Wake me if anything happens."

"You know I will.” After waiting for a moment to see if Dean would say anything else, he grabbed his book again and continued reading. The rain was still falling, a consistent patter that somehow made him relax a little bit. His brother had talked himself back into exhaustion, and it would make Sam happy if that meant he slept for several hours more.


	38. Zack

By the time I got to work the next day I was tired, in so much pain that walking hurt, and I had two of my kind tailing me. The Elders felt that I needed to be watched, and I couldn’t really blame them. My ribs hurt as I breathed, and even when I got warm I didn’t roll up my sleeves or open up my collar. I may be hurt, but I refused to show it.

Thinking the kitsune’s would be victorious, the Elders hadn’t sent a clean up crew to the hospital, so the bodies were still there. The police had shown up and now I had to do autopsies on my own kind. The morgue was a crime scene, and I was working out of one of the other rooms, after a brief talk with one of the deputies. Luckily the Elder’s didn’t want me caught by the police, so they collaborated on my alibi. Thank everything.

I was busy all day with ten bodies on my hands, and each step was made more difficult by the fact that I hurt. Eating lunch was nearly impossible since my chest and stomach had been hit several times last night. My co-workers were a little worried, which was endearing actually, but they left me alone when I said I’d walked into a wall. I was clumsy enough that they bought it, giving me knowing looks and one offered me a pint of ice cream. Which I accepted. I considered breaking into the medicine because Advil just wasn’t cutting into the pain at all.

It took too long for the day to pass, and I was sitting in my car when one of my followers came over to me. Although I had been trying to calm myself down for the marathon that would be dealing with the Elders tonight, the smirking face that greeted me effectively ruined any chances I had of doing so. I rolled down the window and waited for him to speak.

Which he didn’t. “What?” I finally asked and he smirked at me.

"You're taking us to Dean and Sam," he said and I glared.

"I told the Elders the truth. I don't know where they are," I said. There was no way I had spent all that time last night helping Dean only to give him up.

"We all know you're lying, so just make this easier on yourself and take us to them.”

"Look, if I did, I would tell you, right? I mean, those were my people, weren't they? Why wouldn't I want them caught?" I tried to put anger into the words, but all I was feeling inside was fear. I wondered how Dean was doing and if the Elders were searching the woods as I worked. It had rained a lot the night before, and I hoped that it washed away all traces of my walk outside, but I wouldn’t know. I had no idea how to combat any questions the Elder’s might have for me, and that terrified me.

"They've scared you, that's fine, let us take care of them." He reached in and grabbed my collar, pulling my face close to his so I could smell his breath as he talked. He really needed to brush his teeth.

"I'm not scared of them! I'm scared of the Elders! If I knew anything I’d tell them!” I said quickly, struggling to get away. This hurt. A lot.

His fist hit my cheek and I saw spots for a second. Pain rushed across my face and I gasped for breath as he spoke. "You're just being difficult," he said. "Seriously, are you this stupid?" He let me go so he could open the car door and haul me out.

"You're stupid," I said, turning my head to look at him. "You're in a police patrolled area, hitting a hospital worker. You should stop before you get arrested.” If I had the number for the police in my phone, I seriously wouldn’t mind calling them. The only problem was the Elders, who would no doubt believe that I was causing trouble.

"I won't get arrested,” he said. “Because you're going to take us to the Winchesters. Now.”

"I don't know where they are. I... they're staying at some motel nearby, but... But the Elders know that, they have the motel surrounded, don’t they?” Maybe I could lead him away? Tell him that the Winchesters were at a different motel, and then just kind of run for it. Only I couldn’t do that, because then I’d have to leave Sam and Dean behind, and that wouldn’t do.

"That's not where they are though, is it?" he asked, shaking me as he spoke.

"I don't know!" I said again, flinging my hands out to push him away. "I don't know, I don't know!" The more this went on, the more panicked I got. I wasn’t a strong fighter, I wasn’t a weapon, or dangerous, or even manipulative. All I was good for was telling a person how someone else died.

"You know, they said we're allowed to cut off your claws if you don't help," he whispered, his face getting close to mine as he said it. His eyes slit into yellow orbs and he smiled, licking his lips. “Slowly.”

I felt a shiver slip down my spine. Claws were thicker than human nails, strong, natural. They took a long time to grow out, and all accounts of losing them said it was incredibly painful, like having human fingernails cut beyond the quick. My hands twisted in the air just thinking about it and I started thrashing in his arms. "I don't know! I don't know! I... could tell you their hotel, but... I don't know which room, and the Elders already know so it’s not new information!” I couldn’t have my claws taken away. I couldn’t.

"You're not behaving," he said, pushing me back into my car. “We know you know more than you’re saying, so drive to the motel. We'll follow you. If it leads us to nothing, you’ll have to answer the Elders for that.”

I shook my head emphatically while shivering in fear. "Yeah, I'll take you, I don't do anything." The thing was, the motel was going to be a bust, but what other choices did I have? Defenseless, that was the role I was good at, and if I could convince them that was the only role I had, maybe there’d be a chance I could survive.


	39. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays and Happy New Year! I'm having a terrible time getting back into any sort of routine since the holidays started, I'm so sorry! I'm going to work hard to stop that nonsense in the coming year.

"He's not coming, is he?" Dean asked, looking at Sam and feeling the incredible itch to move spreading out through his body again. Sam hadn't let him do anything all day, not even pee alone. That was wretched.

"I don't know Dean," Sam said, offering Dean another protein bar. "Eat?"

"Sam," Dean groaned, looking away in disgust. "You must be joking. No. A thousand times no."

"You've got to eat something more Dean. Water and chips doesn't cut it."

"You eat that bar," Dean said. "I'll leave when you're asleep and get something real to eat. There's an Arby's I saw that's open late."

Sam sighed and Dean glanced at him again. He was going stir crazy. It was like when he was confined to a room with Sam waiting for their father to come back, only they had more rooms in that place. Sam wouldn't even let him go into the downstairs of this place to look around. Something about not moving around too much because he was injured. Like Dean ever listened to that shit. Dean moved when Dean wanted to move, and he was certainly ready to do that now.

"Dean," Sam said, putting the bar back in the duffle. "You can't leave, okay? You could open those wounds and then - " Dean cut him off.

"Yeah, I've heard it before Sammy, but I hate sitting here like an invalid."

"You *are* an invalid."

"Not."

"To."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

They stared at each other for a moment and then Dean relaxed. Sam was still Sam and they were going to be okay. A smile spread out on his lips and Sam returned it.

"Fine," Dean said, leaning back into the cot again. "But you have to read to me."

"You want me to read to you?" Sam asked, holding up his book. "Really?"

Dean looked at the title and groaned. "Frankenstein?" he asked. "Haven't you read that, like, a million times? Why do you read about monsters when we fight them?"

"I feel badly for the monster," Sam shrugged.

"That'll put me to sleep."

"Fine with me, I don't have to change your bandages for another hour." Sam opened the book then paused. "Should I start where I am, or should I begin from the beginning?"

With another groan, Dean closed his eyes. "Doesn't matter, I can't understand the language anyway."

"It's called English Dean," Sam said, and Dean could picture the smirk that was on his face.

"See, it doesn't even sound like American," Dean said, shaking his head. "Just, wherever."


	40. Zack

I curled up on the bed and tried not to cry. I was in Sam and Dean's motel room, and it wouldn't do to cry on their sheets. That would... be bad, right? There was something wrong with the thought of curling up here and sleeping after crying my heart out, but at the moment, I wasn't sure I cared. My hands hurt, my body ached and I was supposed to be back to "entertain" the Elders tonight. I wasn't sure I was making it.

The Winchesters weren't here, but I knew that, and a few hours later the sadist was fairly sure I didn't know where they were. He could have kept going, I had five more claws he could take, but he'd done a certain amount of damage, moving from one hand to the next so I didn't numb up enough to ignore the pain. Like I would.

Was I on Sam's bed? Dean's? Taking a deep breath, I decided it was Dean’s. It smelled of heavy musk, dirt, clean sheets, springing the image of him into my head. The other scents in the room were blood, piss and sweat, mostly from me. Torture wasn't something that I was used to, and I probably should have given them up. Every time I closed my eyes though, I saw Dean on that cot, screaming out in pain. *I* had inflicted that pain to keep him alive, and it kept me from giving them up.

For a long time I stayed on that bed, slipping in and out of consciousness, but finally I knew I had to wash up. Moving slowly, I managed to get into a sitting position, and then I stood, walking to the bathroom. Surely they wouldn't mind if I took a bath? Oh, a shower. It was a shower. That was fine. I could... maybe stand for this.

Watching blood wash down the drain, I carefully soaped up my hair, rinsing it out and feeling the sting across my open flesh. My fingers were throbbing and the cuts and scratches I had now pulsed in time to the fingers. Sighing, I finished washing, then stood under the water for a few more minutes before shutting the water off.

Drying was difficult, some of me was still bleeding, but I did what I could to dry them and put a few bandages on the worst bits. I didn't have much here, and I ended up rooting through their belongings in order to get what was needed. Then I dug out a pair of clean underwear, Dean's?, Sams?, and pulled them on. My clothes were ruined, I'd have to use something of theirs to get home.

No, no, no, I told myself as the tears threatened my eyes again. Think those degrading thoughts I hate. I’m a man, I’m a "big boy" and big boys don't cry. I had to tell myself I couldn’t cry, that I was stronger than that, and for a moment, it worked.

I was so tired that I couldn't drive, so I sniffed at each bed, chose the one that smelled most like Dean, and curled up on the cover. Just a few moments, just a little bit. I didn't sob, but the tears slipped out as I lay there, curled up and trying to forget what had happened. I could wish, with all my heart, that I wasn’t going to die yet, but it was a wish that was difficult to believe with so many advisories that were so much stronger than I was.


	41. Dean

Dean snuck out of the shack, carefully looking around until he found the road. A little hobbling later and he even found the car. Glancing back, he saw that Sam wasn't following yet, so that was a bit of luck. He got into the car, started it, and then headed off.

He needed grub, real grub, not that fake bar stuff Sam swore counted as real food. It tasted nasty, so therefore it didn’t count as food. Poking his hands around the front of the car as he drove, he finally found some cash stashed between the seats. It was enough for something fast, and he drove into town. He didn’t bother to stop until he’d gotten through a window and had a bag of food. Delicious, real, food.

There was no way he was eating in the car and if he took the food back to the shack then Sammy would know he’d been out. Glancing down at his bandages and dirty clothes, he steered his car towards the motel. He could use a change of clothes.

Driving carefully around the motel, and cramming french fries into his mouth, he didn’t see anyone around. There was no one in the parking lot, and although cars passed on the road they weren’t slowing down to see what was happening at the motel. It seemed safe enough so he went ahead and parked. Grabbing the bag of food and tucking one of the guns from under the front seat into his pants, he slipped out of the car and walked carefully up to his room.

There was a light on in his room. Looking around, he pulled out his gun and tried to peer in the window, but couldn’t through the curtain. Sliding his card into the lock, he slowly and carefully opened the door. One step in, then two, then he held his gun out towards the bed, where there was a sleeping form.

"Zack?" Dean whispered, the door swinging closed behind him. It latched with a soft thud, and he lowered the gun. If he looked like crap, Zack looked worse. His body was covered in scratches and bruises, there were bandages across some of them, and his fingers were wrapped up as well. It wasn’t even all his fingers, but a odd number that wasn’t in any sort of pattern. Taking a quick glance around the room, Dean’s eyes caught on several long and black things on the carpet. He walked over and picked one of them up, turning it and seeing a clump of flesh and blood sliding down to a very sharp point. He dropped it to the ground with a hiss.

It was a claw, pulled from the socket, given the flesh and blood. He stood again and walked over to the bed. Zack was in a pair of his boxers and was curled up in a ball on top of the sheets. A deep well of pity rose inside Dean, and he sat down on the edge of the bed. What had happened here, and how was Zack holding up? Was this from Zack's "Elders", or something else? Setting the bag of food next to him, he reached out a hand and lightly put it on Zack's shoulder.

He was cold, body like ice under Dean's fingers, and Dean shook him. "Zack," he said, clearing his throat. "You shouldn't be here."

Zack's eyes flickered open, and those deep brown orbs focused on Dean. "Oh," he gasped, and then he tried to sit up. He struggled with it for a moment before hissing in a breath and falling back onto the bed. Zack pulled his hands out from under himself and stared down at the bandages. "I'm sorry," he said. "I... shouldn't be here, I know I shouldn't, and I shouldn't have fallen asleep and I'm sorry I did it on your bed and -"

Unable to contain a little laugh, Dean cut him off, moving his fingers lightly down Zack's shoulder. "Calm down man," he said, feeling relieved, but not sure why. "Just... chill?” Seeing Zack awake and aware relaxed him, even if he was worried about him being so cold.

Zack looked up at Dean and frowned. "How many days have passed? Should you be up yet? Did I sleep more than a day?" The questions rushed out of him and he glanced around the room as though his answers were there to be plucked from the air.

"I doubt it," Dean said with a frown. "Sam told me not to move, but I didn't listen. I was hungry.” He pointed at the bag and then looked back at Zack. "What the hell happened to you?" He wanted that answer, but he also wanted to know one more thing. “And where'd you get those?" he asked, pointing at his underwear. It was weird to see his clothes on someone else, but it also didn’t really bother him. He wondered if it should.

"Oh... um..." Zack's face flushed a bright red. "I'm sorry, I... everything I had was ruined, and... I was just going to stay for a moment, try to rest up but..."

"Those things on the ground yours?" Dean asked, pointing at the claws. Zack followed the finger and then he closed his eyes.

"Yeah," he said and Dean felt the word like a punch to the gut. He knew all about torturing someone, he was very intimately aware of how much pain that left behind. Who the hell would do that to Zack, and why did it make Dean want to pull the man out of this town and keep him? “Just so you know. I didn't tell. I kept my mouth shut, I wouldn't let you down like that." Zack whispered the ending and Dean shook his head.

"What?" Dean breathed, trying to understand the emotions swirling through his body. There was a deep seated need to hate this man, but the more he knew about him, the more he saw, the more respect he had. Zack wasn't Cas, he wasn't a soldier, but the strength that he showed was just as deep, just as real. There was a level of determination that both men had, and Dean responded to that strength. He couldn't be with someone who was weak willed, he needed someone who could stand up to him, someone who wouldn't back down from their convictions, even if Dean didn't like those convictions. Dean knew it couldn’t work, a relationship between himself and someone rooted in a town, in a home. He’d tried that once, he knew how hopeless it was. He knew that, but a part of him wanted to rush forward and... what?

"It didn't matter what they did," Zack continued in a whisper, and Dean hung onto every word. "I didn't tell them where you were, I didn't tell them that you two knew I knew who you were. I was careful, even when it hurt, even when my mind was blanking out. I know I didn't tell on you." He opened his eyes again and held Dean’s gaze as tears slipped down his cheeks. "I was very careful. And I'm sorry I didn't bring food tonight, I just couldn't risk it. Also, I must have fallen asleep.”

He reached out a hand and placed it on Zack’s head, lightly threading his fingers through the hair, which was like thick velvet in his hand. Zack twisted closer, putting his head against Dean’s leg with a hiss as his hands pressed into the bed. "I'm sorry," Dean said. He had to say something, and that was the only thing he could think of.

"For what?" Zack asked, one hand lifting to rest on Dean’s knee as his cheek pressed against the leg.

"I don't know," Dean admitted. For Zack being tortured maybe, or because Zack was in this trouble because of them. It was hard to know exactly what bothered him, exactly what he felt was his fault. “Everything?” That should cover it.

"Oh," Zack said, sounding fine with that admission. "Okay. It's not your fault."

Dean chuckled, and he lightly scratched his fingers over Zack’s head. For some reason, he wanted to do more, pull Zack into his arms, shield him from the world. It was an odd desire, one he’d only felt a few times before, and it took every bit of strength not to move. Zack just wasn’t in good enough shape for that kind of thing.

He wanted to hold Zack, and close his eyes and pretend that everything would be okay when he opened them. Zack was warm, and he at least somewhat accepted Dean, which was odd, and at the same time, needed. Dean took in a breath, taking what comfort he could from being close to Zack. Maybe, if they stayed here long enough, the ache inside him would go away and he could return to his job, perfectly capable of facing whatever odds they were against.


	42. Sam

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Sam looked around the shack and felt his heart pound fiercely in fear. Where was Dean? When had he fallen asleep? How had Dean gotten past him? Dean shouldn't be walking around! Sam stood up and searched downstairs before determining that yes, Dean had left. Picking up his phone he called Dean, but he heard the phone ringing nearby. The sound was coming from the other side of the cot and he found the phone on the ground, swearing as he did.

"Damnit Dean," he said, throwing up a hand in frustration. Then he stared at his phone again. Should he... call Zack? What if he was being watched? He hesitated only a second before dialing. If it seemed like Zack was in a bad situation, he'd just hang up.

It went to voicemail after a few rings and Sam left two words. "Call me." Then he hung up and started packing everything away. His stupid brother, never knew when to sit down and relax. Sam should have tied him to the bed.

When he got out to the driveway, he swore again. Dean had taken the car. Of course he had. Well... walking down the street, he found one of his own to take. A little work and then the engine was roaring to life and he slipped down the driveway and out onto the road. He'd swing past all the food places open first, Dean was probably eating somewhere.

Twenty minutes later he was heading to the only other place he could really see Dean going besides the shack. The motel. Swinging in and going around the building carefully, he caught sight of their current car. Another turn and he saw Zack's car. Oh. Were they? He parked in a different area and considered that.

Should he be bothering them in that case? If they were... becoming more friendly, then he wouldn't want to interrupt them. He knew Dean needed a type of intimacy that Sam just couldn’t give him. Dean had been holding himself back from any kind of pleasure for a while now, and Sam didn’t really think getting close to Zack was unhealthy. Only, Dean was injured, should he be doing that sort of activity?

He was still debating the situation when he noticed a few people heading up the stairs towards their room. Squinting at them he tried to figure out if they were other kitsune’s or not. It took only a moment before one of them was pulling out a knife and Sam slipped out of the car. Grabbing his own gun from the duffle he crept along the edge of the building, keeping his eyes out for anyone else heading towards their room.

Keeping his distance, he followed until he he could get a good shot in. If they were kitsune that would just piss them off, but either way, he wasn't going to let them just attack his brother and Zack. Especially if they were getting more familiar with each other. That was just rude. When he saw them stand right outside his door, he leveled his gun and took in a breath.

"Hey!" he called, and when their attention turned to him, he opened fire.


	43. Zack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for being gone so very long. Life has a way of sneaking up on you and messing everything up. I've gone through the holidays, my MIL's week long visit, my grandfather's death, and two weeks worth of sicknesses. I'm exhausted, but going to be doing my best to get back into the swing of things. The goal is updates on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Wish me luck.

There was a sort of pleasant detachment a person felt when they were about to die. I felt it strongly as Dean’s fingers carded through my hair, my face pressed so I could breathe in his scent. So close to Dean, so calmly cared for, I knew I was going to die. That was the only possible outcome for such intimacy. Good things like this didn’t happen to me.

I started falling asleep to those soothing fingers, so content in the moment. Which was, of course, when there was a gunshot. My eyes opened and I lifted my head enough to look around.

"Get down!" Dean said as he rolled off the bed, pulling me with him onto the ground. I landed on his chest and blinked several times. This was nice.

"Sorry!" I whispered a second later as he winced. Of course, he was injured too, and I wasn’t moving off of him. I should probably do that, but I didn’t really want to.

"I pulled you down here, didn't I?" he asked, pulling a gun out of his pants. Looking down at it I tried not to think about how dangerous guns were, and how it had been down the front of his pants. That could have gone very badly.

"I knew it," I said with a nod. "I'm going to die."

"You're not going to die," Dean said irritably. "Get off of me."

"Oh, right!” I slipped off of him quickly and curled up against the wall. Somehow I had to manage to be out of the way. Guns were involved, I didn’t do guns. "Sorry."

"And stop apologizing.” Dean glanced at me. "It's irritating."

"Sorry," I mumbled. He shook his head with a snort, glancing over the edge of the bed.

"Whatever. Just keep your head down." As if that would be a problem.

There were another few shots, then Dean was slipping around the bed and heading for the door. Just as he got there, there was a knock. "Dean?" Sam's voice came, and I looked towards the door.

"Sammy," Dean said. Sam opened the door and walked in, looking at his brother.

"I told you to stay put," he said and I breathed a sigh of relief. No one else was with him.

"They're dead?" Dean asked as he stood up. Sam nodded.

"They're dead. There's probably more. What are you doing, coming back here? Zack told you the place was surrounded.” Sam demanded, coming into the room and closing the door.

"I was trying to eat," Dean said, motioning towards the bed and the food bag. Sam’s gaze went from the bag to me, sitting on the other side of the bed.

"Zack. I was right then, that was your car outside." Sam said, and I nodded.

"My car," I agreed. "I... it's a long story. We shouldn't stay here though, should we?" I asked, standing up. If there were dead bodies, I really needed to not be here. The longer these people were in my town, the more likely it was that I was going to get fired. Then I realized I was only dressed in boxers and I sat back down again, wrapping my arms around my legs. "Sorry, excuse me, I don't have clothes."

"Oh, um," Sam turned to his brother as a light flush crept across his cheeks. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Dude!" Dean frowned. "Food!" He pointed at the bag again. "Zack was here when I got here, curled up on the bed. He's been worked over and I think some of it happened here."

I shivered and looked at the ground, seeing my claws littering a patch of carpet. I tried not to feel the throbbing that was going through my fingers.

"God, sorry Zack," Sam said. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'm going to die," I said firmly, nodding my head. "But I won't take you two down with me." They were still monsters, of a type, but who was I to complain? The more I knew about myself, about them, about my kind, the less I knew where the boundaries were. Who was to say which side was right? Our kind fed on humans, but it wasn't like we didn't have a choice. I made mine, and the Elder's made theirs. Humans went vegetarian, if I could, I would have done so completely by now.

"What?" Sam asked, and I could hear Dean moving.

"Don't ask," Dean said. "Let's get you in some clothes and get the hell out of here." Something landed on my head and I reached up to take it down.

It was Dean's clothes. Obviously Dean's because Sam's would be too large for me. "Thanks," I mumbled, standing and pulling the clothes on. I watched Sam and Dean walk around the motel quickly putting things into bags like it was so routine they could do it in their sleep. It probably was. When I was dressed, I went over and picked up the claws. No sense in leaving those here.

"Ready to go Zack?" Sam asked gently, and I nodded. "Those... can you.. do you..."

I looked up at him. "They'll take months to grow back completely," I said. "There's no sense in keeping them, but there's no sense in leaving too much of my blood behind either."

Dean was at the door and holding it open. "Let's go," he said.

"I'm sorry," Sam's voice was soft and I nodded.

"Me too. This is going to make everything I do so much more painful.” I gave him a small smile though. "But I feel better, knowing I didn't break.” I looked away from him and walked out of the room. My little victories wouldn’t mean anything if they got caught.

Keeping our eyes out for anyone following us, we headed down the stairs and to our cars. Three people, three cars, and I couldn’t help pausing at Dean’s to try to form cohesive thoughts. It wasn’t easy. Now I had the memory of his body against mine to play havoc with my desires. It wasn’t okay.

"Where are you two going?" I asked. This felt like a goodbye for some reason. Their job wasn’t done, the Elders still wanted their blood, and I was in a terrible state, but there was a distance now that we were outside of the hotel room that I couldn’t fathom.

"We're meeting up at the shack," he said. "I still have to eat." The food was no doubt ice cold now, but I suspected he didn’t care one way or the other.

"Okay. I'll see you two there then." My voice echoed my uncertainty, and he gave me a strange look before shaking his head.

"What's your problem?" he asked.

With a grin I didn’t feel I said, ”Probably loss of blood. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah." Dean got into the car and I watched him go before walking to mine.

There was a sudden pressure at my neck, a blade pressed against my skin like a soft caress. I hissed in a breath and tried to relax. If it wasn’t a hunter then I could be reasonably sure that I wasn’t about to immediately die. Why hadn’t I checked the back seat? Wasn’t that what normal people did? I was going to have to start implementing a whole set of habits that revolved around me paying closer attention to the world around me because this was getting ridiculous.

"Zack, Zack, what a bad boy you've become," a soft voice said in my ear. I looked into the rearview mirror. I didn’t recognize the kitsune behind me but that didn’t matter. Either way, he worked for the Elders. 

"Have I?" I asked as my heart stuttered in my chest. It wasn’t difficult to let fear creep into my voice, because these last few days were mostly me being afraid of just about everything happening around me. When everyone was gone, presuming I was still alive when that happened, I was going to take a vacation and just sleep for several days.

"Yes, you have. And now you're going to go to the Elders and tell them what you've done." I swallowed carefully and shook my head. Which part was he talking about? Being around the Winchesters? Speaking to them? Had he heard enough to know that they knew who and what I was?

"I haven't done anything," I whispered. If I kept to innocence, would I make it out of this alive?

"Yes you have, and you know it. It's time to get serious. Start driving little boy."

Shit, I really was dead.


	44. Dean

Dean ate his food in the car as he was driving, so by the time he was parking the bag was empty. He was doing his best to keep his mind completely empty, a task that usually was no problem for him. It was taking more effort for the moment and when Sam slipped into the passenger side he turned to him right away. For several moments they just stared at each other.

“What now?” Sam asked as he met Dean’s gaze. He closed the door and leaned against it. “The ghost isn’t dead, there’s kitsune Elders after us and Zack...” he trailed off.

Taking in a breath, Dean let it out slowly, trying to ignore the emotions swirling around him. They seemed pretty insistent on barging into his life lately, and Dean wished they’d just go away. He would blame Zack, but if he was honest with himself it was more because he tended to avoid them until there was no way to do so. If only he didn’t feel so broken inside when they were done rushing through him he might feel more inclined to deal with them. Making this decision, trying to make it anyway, hinged on emotions. His emotions towards Zack. Did he help the man, did he wash his hands of him and walk away? Dean didn’t know what to do, but he did know one thing. He didn’t want Zack to die. At least, not by someone else’s hands.

Turning to look at the driveway, he also knew that Zack wasn’t home yet. Hadn’t he been right behind Dean? Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever looked, how long could it take Zack to show up? His food had been more important than anything.

“I told Zack we were meeting back at the shack," Dean said as he scanned the road for Zack, but he wasn’t seeing him.

“So you want to go back? You trust Zack?” Sam asked carefully and Dean glanced at him again. Sam’s brows were furrowed and he was watching Dean closely, like Dean might jump up and down or twirl in the seat.

“What’s your problem?” he asked with a frown.

“I want to know what’s going on in that head of yours. You’ve been flighty this whole job, completely without focus. Right from the beginning you've been intent on figuring out Zack. You say you want to kill him, but when you’re alone together you’re ignoring food and cuddling Zack. I’ve never seen anything interrupt your stomach from a meal like this.” His voice was soft, calm, but Dean knew he was analyzing everything he was seeing and hearing because that’s what Sam did when he didn’t understand Dean.

“I was right about him,” Dean said defensively. The only emotion he could clearly use for the moment was defensive, and wasn’t that ridiculous? “And we weren’t doing anything scandalous. Jeez Sammy, I don't swing that way.” He laughed but it felt completely hollow. It didn’t bother him if other people were, at least he felt as though it shouldn’t, but maybe that was the problem. Did some part of him feel like being gay, or bi, or whatever, was inferior to being straight? He looked away from Sam and back at the house. Where the hell was Zack?

The car was finally driving in, slowly slipping around the curve and then into the garage. Dean frowned as he watched that. There were an awful lot of cars in the driveway for someone to make it into garage.

“That’s weird,” Dean muttered. Something about it bothered him.

“What is?” Sam turned in his seat to look as well and Dean watched lights turn on. There were heavy curtains on the windows though, and they couldn’t see anything through them.

“Those Elders, did Zack say where they were staying?” Dean asked. An uneasy feeling welled in the pit of his stomach. Was this why Zack was in so much trouble, because the Elders were living right under his roof?

“They’re staying with him, remember? That’s why there are so many cars in his driveway, why he didn’t take you inside the house to fix you. You weren’t with us when he mentioned that I guess.” Sam turned back to Dean. “You think something's wrong.” It wasn’t a statement, and Dean knew that.

“Yeah, I think something’s wrong.” Dean reached into the back seat to pull out his duffle and grabbed a knife, holding it tightly in his hand. What he really wanted to do was rush in there and start shooting anything that wasn’t Zack. His deep need to protect the man was very likely to kill him.

“Dean, we can't go in there. You’re injured, not even supposed to be walking around, and if you give two shits about Zack, you won’t do something that might kill him. If you walk in there right now, that’s all you’re going to do.” Sam’s voice was gentle, soothing, but it just grated on Dean’s nerves.

“I’m fine,” he said, reaching for the door handle, but Sam pushed his hand onto Dean’s arm and the pain from it raced through Dean’s body like a shockwave. A gargled scream later, Dean blinked through the haze to look at his brother. "Bitch!” he swore and Sam nodded.

“Jerk. Don't go getting yourself killed. Remember how I don’t like it when you do that. Let’s think this one out before crashing in there. For all we know he's going to be fine.”

“Fine like getting his, his…” Dean didn’t want to say “claws” because that was monster talk, and if he thought of Zack as a monster, then he couldn’t see him as a human. “His “nails” ripped out of his hands? That kind of fine? Fine like bruised and bloody fine? I know that when I tell you I'm fine and I look like he did you don't believe *me*.”

Sam took a breath. “Okay, you have me there, but Dean, there are more of them than us. Let’s see if we can’t do this in a way that won’t kill him, or us.”

It went against every fiber of his being to not rush right in, but Dean knew Sam was right. He didn’t have to like it, but having some kind of plan was likely to be better than rushing in like an idiot. Didn’t make him feel any better though.


	45. Zack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a really bad job of warning for certain things during earlier posts. So, um, warnings here for torture.
> 
> Also, I couldn't update this on Friday due to the Archive being down for maintenance, sorry it took until Sunday to actually post this.

That feeling of dread I’d had when I’d been in Dean’s arms had been getting steadily worse. When the Elders got pissed, nations fell, and there was no reason to believe they wouldn’t be pissed off with me. Even so, I walked with my head held as high as I dared, the blade from my backseat passenger pressed between my shoulder instead of in my neck. It wasn’t really like it mattered, I wasn’t going anywhere.

In the living room was a chair set on top of the plastic sheets I usually put over my windows in the winter. Elder Abigail was sitting near the chair with a knife in her hands and a small smirk on her face. The look was atrocious, and made my stomach clench.

“I see you’ve decided to join us this evening,” she said, crossing her legs. She wasn’t wearing color, her whole attire was plain black, and she had on flats tonight. Usually she wore heels, sometimes they were spiked. “We’ve been looking forward to seeing how you would entertain us this evening.”

On the other side of the room, lounging with his cane in between his knees, Elder Gustave was smiling, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. It was a bit disconcerting that he looked at me like I was a meal he hadn’t yet gotten to savor. “Just in time," he said, the voice rumbling through his body and I had to fight the nerves making me want to vomit. “We were starting to get bored.”

“Oh Zack,” Elder Stella said, disappointment radiating from her. She had been pacing next to the empty chair and when I looked at her she met my gaze, brows pulled together, lips drawn down. Her brown eyes were filled with sorrow and I felt like I’d somehow managed to let her down. I liked Elder Stella, if only because she actually seemed to want to improve relations between humans, kitsunes and hunters. I knew that she occasionally talked with fringe hunters to help humans who had been attacked by monsters. I’d always tried to stay on her good side, because I honestly thought she was trying to change how things worked, using her position as an Elder to her advantage. “I wish you had done the right thing here.”

“I think I have,” I said, licking my lips nervously. I held her gaze, hoping she’d see that I was telling her, at least, the truth. What I had done was what I thought was best. It just wasn’t also what the Elders thought was best. “I’ve done nothing but be honest with you, and you seem determined to believe that I’m lying.” Now I was full of bullshit, and by not looking at Elder Abigail or Elder Gustave I hoped they wouldn’t so easily catch me.

“He’s lying,” my captor said. He let the blade slip into my skin. “He was with the brothers. He's even wearing their clothes.”

“I stole their clothes,” I said. “Mine were a mess.” I turned to the other Elders, holding up my bandaged hands. “See? I was bloody and had to take something to wear.”

“Then tell the Elders here why you walked out of that room with Dean, while two of our brothers were dead on the ground outside the door.” My backseat passenger pulled his knife from me and moved the blade a little over before stabbing it back into me. His chin rested on my shoulder and he looked past me at the Elders.

“It was because they thought they were protecting me.” My heart was going to betray me, the way it was pounding I was certain everyone in the room could hear it. It was likely, their hearing was better than mine. I was in a lot of pain though, so maybe that would give me the edge to get out of this.

Of course that was wishful thinking as I was shoved forward and right to the chair. With a few quick movements I was tied to it and my captor moved away from me. Elder Abigail lightly ran the blade across my cheek before leaning in and taking a deep breath, face right against my shirt.

“I have his scent now,” she purred into my ear and I shivered. I really hated it when women were so close to me. “Forever I’ll have his scent. You tried to cover their scent the other night, but you will never be able to take it from me now.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” I started, but stopped when the blade slipped down my neck and pressed lightly against my shoulder, cutting through the fabric and into my skin.

“Don't lie to me Zack. You know I can tell when you lie. You’ve gotten very good at it, but we’ve got to stop this horrible habit you have.” Elder Abigail was enjoying this way too much. It felt like we were intwined in a sexual tension that I really didn’t want to be a part of.

Taking a deep breath, I looked up at her. “I do everything for the glory of the Kitsune Nation,” I whispered like a good little autobot. Maybe if I could pull her away from her desire to help me and back to the actual issue at hand she’d back away. I really wanted her to back away. “Please, I've been hurt so much lately, and I swear I've been telling the truth. They don't know what I am, they don't know about you, and I...” I stopped as her hand slapped across my cheek.

She had turned a ring around and the stone cut across me, warm blood spilling out down my chin. I gasped and shuddered in a breath. My face was stinging and tears welled in my eyes. This wasn’t going well, this wasn’t going well at all. Every inch of my body was screaming out in pain, in fury, in a wide range of emotions I wasn’t used to experiencing all at once. In that moment I realized it didn’t matter what I said, nothing was going to be good enough for her. She had come here with the express intention of using me and then killing me.

“You’re such a lier, and I think you’re doing it more as the days go by. Do you want to help them? Is that it? Are you trying to bed one of them? They both are quite handsome, for meat. You do know they’d kill you if they knew what you were. That means you’re only alive because they want something out of you,” Elder Abigail said, voice silky smooth and painfully sharp. She pulled the knife out of my shoulder and then moved it down my chest lazily.

“I know,” I whispered, closing my eyes. Was this the beginning of me finally breaking? This small admission was wrenched from me and it somehow relaxed my body.

The worst thing was I knew how very right she was. It wasn’t like I didn’t. Sam kept me alive because he knew I could help his brother. Dean was keeping me alive because he couldn’t quite justify killing me when he hadn't seen me killing anyone. It was only a matter of time though, and I wouldn’t be able to stop them. I wouldn't really *want* to stop them if they decided I was to die. If I couldn’t convince the Winchesters that I was peaceful, I wouldn’t be able to convince anyone. I was such a fool, but I'd chosen a side. I would stick to that side until I died.

Whenever that happened, however broken I got along the way. At some point I had closed my eyes, but now I opened them and stared right into hers. Nothing about this made sense, nothing made me feel better, but here I was, and if I was going to be here then I would be damned if I wouldn’t do the best I could to protect the people I’d decided to help.

“Good, because we need something out of you yet, and if we have to pull that from you one broken finger at a time,” she paused and her hand slipped down to slide across my fingers, pausing at my pinky. “Then we will.”

I decided on screaming. Screaming might not get me very far on the cool or strong list, but maybe the Winchesters would hear me. I wasn’t expecting them to come rescue me, I had no illusions of that, but I still prayed they’d hear me. Maybe if I did it loudly enough, wildly enough, they’d manage to figure out what was going on. Maybe they’d be smart enough to leave. I prayed they’d leave.


	46. Dean

Dean heard the scream and was up and out of the door in an instant. They had just reached the shack when it happened, and Dean wasn’t capable of thought. All he wanted to do was kill. In a stroke of luck for Sam and bad luck for Dean, Sam was out and tackling him before he could get very far.

“Dean!” Sam said, reaching out to place both hands on Dean’s shoulders. Dean struggled against him as Sam turned him around, and he snarled at his brother. “Look at me! You can’t go charging in there. You have no idea what's going on, and you can’t fight an undetermined amount of them.”

“What are they doing to him?” Dean spit the words out, panic creeping through his whole body, making him struggle more. What if Zack was being tortured again? That was likely actually, given what he’d seen. That stupid idiot couldn’t possibly handle much more of that, and Dean didn’t want to see him bruised and bloodied any more.

“We don't know,” Sam said softly and reasonably. The tone made him want to claw Sam’s face off. “And we can’t know unless we go in there, but Dean, you have to get hold of yourself. You can’t just... run off into danger.”

“Sam,” he moaned, shaking his head. Every fibre of his being was aching, begging him to go and keep that scream from ever happening again. Dean didn’t understand it, didn’t want to, he just wanted the pain to go away.

“I know, I know,” Sam said patiently, slapping a hand lightly on Dean’s cheek to make Dean focus on him. It worked, but mostly because Dean knew what he was doing and it managed to calm some of the absolute panic racing through him. “Look, we could call the police, right?” Sam suggested as he met Dean’s gaze. “If nothing else it should make them relocate, and if they do that, then we might get a chance to smuggle him away.”

“The police’ll just die out here,” Dean said as he considered that. The bad part was, if an actual fight broke out, then the police weren’t capable of handling the problem. The good part was that if the residents of the house heard the sirens they very well might try to run. A panic would make it more difficult for them to be organized. Right now they were on a large property, practically out in the middle of nowhere, but if that wasn’t enough to keep them safe from the local law enforcers then they might try actual country. Which was quite a ways away. This was good, a decent plan, and one they could use to their advantage. He focused on his brother with a deadly grin. “Or not. They might be a welcome distraction. What do we know that kills them Sammy?”

Sam gave him a smile as he sighed and he stood up, offering a hand to Dean. “Not guns, not silver specifically, but a knife to the heart. I can try to look a few things up, see if there’s anything else, but we don’t have a lot of time. Why?” Sam asked, rubbing his hands together.

“I was thinking fire,” Dean said. Fire was usually a good bet with just about anything. “Maybe a few car fires.”

“Even if it doesn’t kill them,” Sam said, a small smile spreading across his face. “It should slow them down.” Sam walked back to the shed and Dean followed him. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. How much control do you want?”

“As much as we can,” Dean said. He followed his brother and they both began rooting through their bags. “We don’t know which car they might put Zack in, and I don’t want to accidentally kill him.”

“Okay,” Sam grinned up at his brother. “If you kill him you want it to be intentional?”

“That’s right,” Dean said as he returned the grin. “Comeon, let’s do this.”


	47. Zack

I was hearing everything muffled. Even Elder Abigail’s voice. There was blood in my ears, dripped from my face at some point, and just about every bit of me hurt. I’d been scratched, or cut, several times on my sides. Far away, through the din of my heart pounding in my head, I heard a knock on a door.

My voice was raw from screaming, fear running into pain over the course of what felt like hours. It probably hadn’t been hours. My legs hurt, and there was an uncomfortable warmth in my pants. I managed to take in a breath, and all I could smell was blood and piss.

There was a break in the pain, and I opened my swollen eyes to watch Elder Abigail walk away from me. Every bit of me ached and throbbed, but when a hand slipped over my mouth I tried to look around. Elder Abigail was walking away and I turned my head to look at the man holding my mouth closed.

I realized clearly in that moment I didn't know his name. Elder Abigail called him her “chef”, and for some reason I focused on the curiosity that was his lack of a name. Had it ever been spoken in my presence I wondered. Perhaps he didn’t have a name beyond the title, having lost it over the course of serving her. Maybe even she had no idea what his name was, that would be almost funny.

He was watching me with lifted lips, eyes searching my own eyes. It was a staring contest of amusement and curiosity, and I wondered if he even cared if she knew his name. Did he have pride in his work? Did he even care? The moment was broken when Elder Abigail returned to the living room.

“We have to leave," she said and I could hear her clearly. Maybe the blood had moved away from my ears. I wasn’t sure I could move my head enough to check. I managed to tilt it just enough to look in her general direction, and one would almost think she hadn’t just been carving me like a pumpkin a few moments ago. Somehow the pain was starting to recede and I wondered if I had been mistaken by what had been going on.

Glancing down at myself, all I could see was blood. My stomach twisted horribly, the need to vomit surfacing but I was certain I didn’t want to puke all over the open wounds. Talk about unsanitary. Through the blood though, I saw my hands twisted and misshapen and I wondered why I couldn’t feel them at all. Certainly that wasn’t a good thing.

"What’s going on Abigail?” Elder Gustave's voice swam through my head and the severity of his tone made my skull start pounding. I managed a groan.

“Police. They were swinging by because of a noise complaint. I don’t think they - “ but the voice became unimportant because I just couldn’t hear it over the pounding in my head.

Closing my eyes, I floated on the waves of pain for a minute. The moment was broken when I could suddenly feel my hands, and feel each break screaming out in white hot pain. Starbursts shot off behind my eyes and I began to struggle, to fight out of the grips that were causing me agony.

“No!” I screamed, no thought behind my movements. “Let me go!” I thrashed, my only thought that I had to stop hurting. Whatever was touching me was too much and hot streams poured from my eyes and down my cheeks. Surely any minute I’d fall into that nice place where people go when the pain was too severe? I'd heard of these places but I didn't seem inclined to go there, given the agony coursing through my body. My eyes opened and closed, scenery tilting maddeningly around me.

"Shut him up!” an irritated voice snapped near my ear. I turned away from it as my bones began to crack back into place. Would my hands ever be my own again? I hadn’t ever been hurt this badly again, and I didn’t know if I would be able to do my job once they left. My legs hurt, my feet felt mangled, would I be able to walk again? Instinct was starting to take over, and the hand clamped over my mouth again to curtail my screaming.

I tasted blood as my teeth sharpened and my jaws clamped down on flesh. Opening my eyes now was a different experience entirely, the world was focused, vision changed to show body heat instead of bright colors. There was a howl of pain from behind me and I let go of the hand. Heartbeats sounded in my ears and I dropped to the ground, crouching as I focused on my surroundings. Chittering noises came from my mouth, the life force of a kitsune wrapping around my body, tangible in color and form to me now.

There were three people, all of them warm. I could taste blood in the air, mostly mine, and I licked my lips. A blade started near me, my eyes focusing on the black and white of it. Moving faster than I ought to be able to, I battered it away with hands only half filled with claws. Growling low in my throat, I began to slink away from the intruders in my space. I was hurt, and needed to get away and heal.

“The car is... What’s going on here?” a voice came from behind me.

My body moved, ass twitching to one side as I turned to stare at the intruder. A kitsune’s tail was an extension of their soul, seen only when the kitsune changed shapes. It was always there, but at the moment it was visible, my need to protect myself having shifted me into my secondary form. I could feel it thrashing from side to side in agitation. I needed out of here, I needed to be away and safe. I needed to heal. 

The intruder was one of the Elders, but I was done with them. They did not have my best interests in mind, and at the moment all I could think of was how to help myself. I wanted out. I had to get away. Growling low in my throat, I stepped away from everyone, trying to find the opening that would let me escape.

Then there was an explosion, followed closely by chaos.


	48. Dean

The three cars outside had made a delightful explosion. Sam and Dean snuck towards the house, keeping a close eye out for people coming from it. They'd managed to drop six so far, two bodies in each of the cars. Dean didn’t know how many were left, but there had been an old man with a cane at the door when they’d detonated the explosives. He’d gone back into the house as the cars went up in flames.

Time for sneaking was done, Dean was moving in. He knew there was Zack, the old man, and at least one more person inside. What he didn’t know was how many would attack them. Carefully, he stepped up the rock stairs, keeping his eyes sharp, knife in one hand, gun in the other. 

Just as they had hoped, the police had come and stirred up the hornets nest. Hopefully they'd manage to get Zack out before the police returned with the fire trucks. They didn’t have a lot of time, and Dean wasn’t planning on wasting it.

“Dean,” Sam said softly. Dean turned his head, caught Sam’s gaze and looked at where he was pointing. There were shapes moving on the other side of the kitchen window. He watched them for a moment and then rushed the rest of the way up the stairs, abandoning quiet for speed. The shapes looked like they were fighting.

The front door was still hanging open, and Dean peered through it. He could hear yelling coming from inside the house, the sound of something sharp hitting something fleshy followed by a cry. There wasn’t much light, but he slipped in, gun in front of himself, and peered through the darkness.

He saw nothing but house. Around the corner he headed, his brother a solid presence behind him. There was no one he trusted like Sam, no one he could depend on in the same way. They had worked together too long, and Dean was happy for it.

“Let’s go," Sam breathed, voice so low that Dean felt fairly confident no one else would ever have heard him. Dean led the way down the hall and then glanced to the left to see how far into the living room the fighting was.

There was one lamp lit in the back of the room, and it shed just enough light to illuminate the living room. The old man with the cane was near the fireplace, claws extended, watching a crouched figure that was on the other side of a couch. A woman wearing all black was standing perfectly still, back straight, a small frown on her face. In one hand was a knife that was slowly dripping blood onto plastic. The last person was rounding on the crouched figure. He was grinning, eyes golden brown and slit, claws out, body hunched over. A tongue flicked across his lips as he stared at the crouched figure, body tense and ready to attack, although he wasn’t moving yet.

It took Dean all of three seconds to decide to upset the balance. He stepped around the corner, gun held up, knife holding the gun in place. There wasn’t much he was willing to wait on at this point. It felt obvious that the crouched figure was Zack, and he didn’t like the way everyone was ready to attack him. Dean wasn’t going to let them get any further.

"Dean!” Sam whispered, and Dean could almost feel Sam make a grab for him. He was too quick though, out in the open and grinning as he spoke.

“Hey there dirt bags,” he said. “You were looking for me?”

Three sets of eyes snapped to him, and the grin got feral. He could feel the blood pounding through his veins, his heart steady and fast, muscles tensing as they got ready for the fight. Every bit of him was tight and waiting for the permission to attack.

“You must be joking,” the woman said as she looked Dean up and down. She shook her head, a smile slowly stretching across her lips. It didn’t look pleasant, more like a snake about to pounce on a mouse. “You came for this piece of trash?” she asked with a dismissive nod to the crouched figure.

Dean walked further into the room, eyes flickering down to the figure. As he suspected, it was Zack, crouching like he too was waiting for the right moment to strike. Blood was dripping from multiple wounds, his body swaying gently from side to side. The hands that were barely touching the ground were bent in multiple directions, claws extended from the fingers that weren’t bandaged. It was the first time Dean had seen Zack with any of his monster showing, and there was a part of him that felt sick. Even though he had known, for some time now, that Zack was a creature, he hadn’t seen it on the man, but there was no denying it now. A shiver slipped down his spine, but his hands and gaze were steady. There was no pretending, there had never been hope Zack was human, Dean knew that.

“No,” Dean said as he wrenched his gaze from Zack to the woman. She had done this to Zack, and that made rage boil inside him. Through all the threats and anger, hints at violence and promises of death, Zack had remained perfectly human, never once betraying what he was with a flash of eye color or extension of nail. Now this woman came and cut him up until he was reduced to this. Dean didn’t even understand what was going on with Zack, but she had driven him to it, and Dean would repay that kindness a hundred times over. “I came for you,” he snarled. “You *could* just fall on my knife for me, skip the pain I’m going to put you through otherwise. If you’d like.” He really hoped she wouldn’t.

“You stupid, ignorant Hunter,” she snarled as she started moving towards him.

“You are a fool," the old man said as he held up a hand, making the woman pause for a moment. “You will die here, Dean Winchester.”

That seemed to get Zack’s attention, and he snapped his teeth, lunging at the man and tackling him to the ground. Since Zack had never shown any inkling towards violence, watching him roll on the ground with the old man, biting him and slashing at him with the claws that remained was a bit of a shock. Dean carefully moved, eyes on the two of them even as he kept the other two in his peripheral vision.

“Naw,” Dean said with a smile. Zack had sworn he wouldn’t do anything to defend himself, but it seemed he’d defend Dean. “I don’t think so.”

“Neither do I,” Sam said from behind Dean, and then shots rang out. Zack rolled off the old man and backed away from all of them. The woman took three bullets to her chest, and she snarled at Sam, rushing over the couch to get to him. Dean took the opportunity to focus on the old man.

“You're young,” the man said, lifting his cane and using it to block Dean’s swipe. “The young are so reckless.”

“Yeah? Well it looks like the young have the upper hand here.” Whether or not he believed the words was trivial. Saying them made them real. Besides that, he would make them pay for what they’d done to Zack. Pay in blood.


	49. Sam

The woman was fast, over the couch in seconds, giving Sam only enough time to pull out his knife so he could block her claws with knife and gun. If he wasn’t as fast, wasn’t as skilled, he’d end up dead, and Dean didn’t have a chance if that happened. He was already thinking he needed to finish this quickly or his brother was going to fail.

He was knocked to the ground, a swipe of her claws digging into his cheek. Pain blossomed in his face, but he ignored it to wedge his knee under her. Her eyes glowed in the half light and he put as much of his strength into his legs as he could to kick up, pushing her off of him. She had the advantage of strength, and he had the advantage of height, and apparently determination.

In the air she twisted, landing on her hands and knees, pausing only a second before rushing him again. Sam’s hands were up, and he put a bullet right into her face. It might not permanently stop her, but it would make her pause for a moment, and that was all he needed.

Her eyes rolled up in her head as her skull exploded, spraying bone and brain matter all across the bookshelves behind her. For a moment she wasn’t focused on him as she shook her head wildly, blood spraying everywhere. Sam lunged and tackled her to the ground, back hitting the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of her. He used the momentum to dig the knife into her chest. Hands grabbed hold of him, preventing the knife from hitting its mark. Her eyes were all over the place, never landing for long on any one thing, wild and unfocused. In contrast, her grip was fierce, claws digging into Sam’s wrist, threatening to sever everything they came in contact with. Sam hissed in a breath and leaned over her, putting all his weight behind the arm and using his legs to push up for that last inch into her chest.

She howled out a scream, her eyes finally focused on him but there wasn’t time for her to do anything more before the blade hit home. She twitched under him, blood seeping out of her mouth and Sam saw the moment she died, eyes slipping to normal, dead, brown. Her hand finally loosened, and as he pulled the knife out of her, her claws pulled out of him.

Sam breathed heavily, body aching as he turned to look around. Zack was on the ground, still crouched and bleeding, but his gaze was focused entirely on Dean. Dean was facing the old man, his knife buried in his chest, but there was another knife protruding from his back. Behind the man was a woman Sam hadn’t noticed, shock on her face as she looked at the man. From where Sam was, it looked like they’d both stabbed him at the same time.

Time froze as they all stared at the old man, but as Dean pulled the knife out and the body slid to the floor, it began again. There were sirens in the distance, and Sam jumped up, rushing towards his brother. “What happened?” he asked loudly enough to get both of their attention.

“I don't know,” Dean said. He didn’t look at Sam, instead he focused entirely on the woman.

“I...” she took a step back, looking from Dean to Sam and then back. "We have to get out of here.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “We should, but who the hell are you?”

“One of the Elders,” she said and Dean brandished his knife.

“Wait, Dean!” Sam said as he caught movement from the corner of his eyes. Zack stalked over and got between Dean and the woman. His back was to Dean, his eyes completely focused on the woman in front of him. There was purpose to his movements, and Sam got caught up in watching him, curious.

“You would claim him?” the woman said as she watched Zack closely. “You know what he does to our kind.” Zack snapped his jaws at her and she held up her hands. “I’m not trying to hurt him Zack.”

“You understand his growls and snaps?” Dean asked and the woman nodded.

“Of course,” she said. “We need to get out of here though, if you don’t want to explain this to the police.” She headed to the back of the room and picked up a bag. “Can Zack’s car get out through the driveway?”

“No,” Sam said. The driveway was blocked, no way for any of them to get through the fires. He turned to Zack. “Hey, Zack? We gotta go.” There was a moment, when Zack turned his slit eyes on Sam, when Sam thought there was no intelligence behind the eyes. Then he blinked, and started to stand.

“We have a car,” Dean said, wiping his blade off on the old man and tucking it into his jacket. “Let’s get out of here.”

With a nod, Sam began to move, but then Zack was fully straight, and began to fall. Without thinking, Sam moved in quick to catch Zack, and he helped him stand a little steady. “Zack?” he asked in confusion.

“It’s the change,” the woman said quickly. “When we’re more attuned to our heritage, we feel the pain less than when we're fully human.”

“Lady, you’re never fully human,” Dean said as he came over to them. “He gonna be alright?” he asked. Sam carefully lifted Zack into his arms.

“I don't know,” Sam said as he shifted Zack more comfortably. “We’ll have to take a look later.”

“Yeah,” Dean motioned for Sam to head out first. “I’ll follow.”

Nodding, Sam walked as quickly as he could out of the house. They had to get out and somewhere safe to wrap up all the injuries. Between the three of them, they might actually manage to exhaust all of their first aid supplies.


	50. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the fabulous Tanzenlicht! The title was "brain jar" and it makes me laugh every tine I see it. Thanks again!

By the time they checked into the Knights Inn, Dean was barely able to walk and Zack was still passed out. The woman had secured the room for them, as both Sam and Dean had been too covered in blood to walk into the office. It had rankled, but Dean was worried enough about Zack to let things slide for the moment. Besides, she had given them the keys. Sam carried Zack into the room and carefully set him on one of the bed. Dean sat on the other side, glaring at the woman who had followed them in.

“Alright, talk," he growled out. She looked around, her nose crinkling up in distaste.

“I can’t believe I’m here. This is a hooker motel, you know?” she said.

“I said, talk,” Dean pressed. When she looked at Dean, she sighed, and he gave her a grim smile.

“Fine. I took the opportunity presented to me to take care of a problem that I hadn’t found a solution to yet,” she said carefully. Dean watched her cross her arms and lean against the wall. A problem. The other man had been an Elder, like she was, and she had considered him a “problem”.

“You disagreed with his policies?” Sam asked. He was focused on Zack, pulling Dean’s clothes off of him as he spoke. Dean wanted to be the one doing that, wanted to make sure Zack was taken care of, but he knew that he was still healing from his last two battles, and wasn’t really capable of doing the work Sam was.

“Yes. Both Gustave and Abigail had archaic feelings regarding the next step our race should take,” she said before pointing down at Zack. “Zack here is a demonstration of what they feel is acceptable policy.”

“You didn't want him to be tortured, but you watched,” Dean snapped the words out, the anger inside him boiling again. There was no real reason for him to get so upset on Zack’s behalf, but seeing the woman stand there and talk about the torture that had happened as though it wasn’t related to her at all, made him want to take Zack’s claws and dig them into her eyes.

“I had to,” she said through clenched teeth. “I was the one who spoke for him.”

“What does that mean?” Dean snapped. He stood up and pulled his knife out, pointing it at her. There was nothing more he wanted than for her to give him a reason to slide the blade through her skin and into her heart.

“It means *I* said he was telling the truth when he was lying. I persuaded the Elder Council to trust Zack in the first place. He had to pay for his betrayal, and if I had been found to have had any knowledge of what he was doing, I would have been in the chair next. My position was tenuous at best, and after that, it would be forfeit. Now I am the only Elder alive, and the only one who knows what actually happened. I can continue to speak on his behalf to any of the courts I’ll find myself in.” She crossed her arms and glared at Dean. “Kill me,” she said. “I dare you. If you do, you’ll be hunted by kitsune. Not a little hunt where you find a few people laying in wait to take you down, but in a way much more grand. There are assassins that live to take out Hunters, and your names will be on the top of the list. As I hear it, you have bigger worries and don’t need the distraction.” Dean stared at her for several, long, moments. He didn’t want to listen to her, but he also wasn’t sure how best to protect Zack. “If you let me live though, I’ll be working on the restructure of our society, and then we won’t have to fight at all.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. He had paused on his way back to Zack, the first aid kit in his hands. Dean finally tore his gaze away from the woman and over to Sam. He didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t like not knowing.

“My name is Elder Stella and I am one of many who don't like the way our society functions. Most of the kitsune agreed with Abigail, at least the vocal ones, but there are others, hidden mostly, who want a change. I’ve been working for that change.” She watched Sam and then pushed off the wall, coming over to him. “Let me help.”

“You stay away from him," Dean snarled. He hadn’t put his knife away, and he moved to stand between her and Zack. “You’ve done enough to him already.”

“I don't blame you for not trusting me Dean,” Stella said. "But you aren't going to be able to just patch him up like he’s a human. He needs help only I can give him.”

“Why?” Dean stood still, not budging. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy to fix Zack, but he hadn’t been expecting her to point it out so blatantly. “Because you're the same kind of monster he is?”

"Because I have food that will help him,” she sighed. “Honestly, you’re so barbaric. Don't you have any clue how we work? Do you only know how to kill us?”

It was that thing again, where he had to stop thinking of them as just monsters, and start thinking of them as intelligent beings. He knew they were different, and he knew that if Hunters were more aware of what each kind of monster did and liked and behaved they’d be able to find them easier. Dean also knew that there was madness down that road, and a willingness to trust and hope that not all monsters were monstrous. The fear of that path made it nearly impossible for him to go down it. “All I’ve ever needed to know was how to kill you,” he finally said, locking down the embarrassment and fear.

"Then you’re missing out on all kinds of information that may prove we aren’t really the enemy.”

“Actually,” Sam said, and Dean was glad for him speaking up. “Given the treatment your friends gave Zack, you *are* the enemy.”

“They *weren't* friends, they were coworkers.” Stella sighed and threw up her hands. “Fine, let him die here because you’re too full of yourselves to accept help when it’s offered.” She pulled a jar out of her purse and set it down on the table. Inside was a lump of something reddish-grey. Dean was pretty sure it was brain matter. “But I suggest you give this to him. You don't have to cook it or anything, just, open the jar and he should eat.”

Dean groaned as he stared at the jar. Was it fresh? How long had it been in her purse? Could he even offer it if it had come from a living body? It made him queasy just thinking about someone eating that. How would you go about eating that? He knew for a fact nothing that looked like that had been in Zack’s fridge.

“Did you kill for that?” Sam asked, and Dean could hear anger in his voice. Good, good, get angry, Dean was finding it hard to get past ill to reach anger. Who the hell carried brain bits in their purse anyway?

“No. I didn’t.”

“Someone did,” Sam pressed. Dean was finally able to tear his gaze away from the jar and over to Stella, who was looking at the jar instead of at either of them.

“Yes,” she finally said. “Someone did, but it's better than anything dead you could dig up. I’ve kept it to give to him after this ordeal, so it’s his. If you don't use it it will go to waste and someone would have died for nothing.” She turned and started walking towards the door. “Good luck getting him to tell you what he needs, and what medicines work best on him when you can’t even get him out of his stupor.”

Dean looked over at Sam, who was looking at him. They didn't like to ask for help, at least Dean didn’t, and they'd already trusted Zack more than either one of them was really willing to admit. If she walked out now, they might not be able to get her back. If she stayed, they wouldn’t be in control of the situation. Sam shrugged to one side, and Dean frowned, shaking his head. No, he wasn’t going to take orders from some kitsune Elder who had just seen an opportunity and seized it. Looking back at Stella, Sam shrugged and then raised his eyebrows back at Dean. Was Dean sure?

Making himself look at Zack, Dean thought of all the pain he was in. The agony and hurt he had suffered for Dean and Sam. Then he thought of the conversations he’d had with Zack about life choices, killing people, everything. With a growl, he went over to the jar and picked it up.

“No," he said, walking towards Stella with purpose. “He’s not eating this.”

"Dean,” Sam said, as though protesting was the only thing he could think to do at that moment. It was weak though, the protests, and Dean knew he was just trying to make sure Dean was certain he was doing the right thing.

“Because he wouldn’t *want* to,” Dean said, holding the jar out. Anger was rushing out of him, but now he had a direction to put it. “You have no idea what he’s done, what he's sacrificed to live here, do you? You don't know that he’s never killed anyone, that he’s starved himself to control this... this hunger he has. You know what, you psychotic bitch, if you cared half as much for him as you do for yourself, you wouldn’t have even offered this to us.” Then, as she stared at him with wide eyes, he pressed the jar into her chest and let go of it.

Luckily she managed to catch it before it fell and leaked its contents all over the ground. “You -” she started, but Dean cut her off.

“Get out. Just get the fuck out of here now.”

Her mouth snapping closed so quickly he heard the teeth clank together, she put the jar back in her purse and grabbed the door knob. “Fine,” she said. “I think you’re making a mistake though.”

Dean didn't say anything until after she was out and the door was closed behind her. Then he locked the door, closed the curtains tight and turned to Sam. “So, I meant all that, but are we going to have to feed him?” he asked with a grimace.

[](http://imgur.com/IV5ywk3)


	51. Zack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm really sorry about the delay. Gods, I suck, but there was a sudden move that had to happen over Easter weekend, then my wife got sick and I'm starting to think that this year is never going to give me a break. I'm exhausted with all the things that have happened. We're in the home stretch though, only ten chapters to go, so there may be extra posts if I can remember what day it is.
> 
> Also, artwork curtesy of Tanzenlicht, my ever faithful prodder to finish this story. Lots of love to you, and here's hoping that your eyesight gets better soon! <3

[](http://imgur.com/30A5vSc)

The pain had become nothing, which probably should have warned me that something was really wrong. Instead, it made me sigh and smile, because honestly it was nice to not hurt anymore. I was somewhere warm, lying on a soft mattress with a blanket tossed over me. That was pleasant. When I opened my eyes I could only see bright white. Everywhere. Shit. I *was* dead.

“Well, what a state you’re in,” a voice said from next to me. I turned my head and saw Elder Stella frowning at me. She didn’t look remotely human, a poised fox of bright gold with her three tails flickering behind her. Tongues of lightning sparked when they ran into each other and I took in a deep breath.

“Not dead yet then,” I said and when I looked down at myself I could see I was in spirit form as well. My fur was a bright red, paws perfect because the spirit doesn’t injure the same way the physical body does. I licked one paw gently and then finally moved to sit up properly.

“No. Not yet. Those boys are idiots though,” Elder Stella snorted, looking away from me. “A perfectly good meal was rejected because of where it came from.”

“Did you kill for it?” I asked. When she looked back at me, I saw the answer for myself. “Of course they wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t want to eat it anyway. Elder Stella, I have found that although the reaction time is much delayed, I don’t need to eat fresh in order to survive. I have also found that the fresh gland from other animals can help speed up the healing process if needed.”

“You have eaten the gland from… animals?” she asked, nose crinkling. I laughed, and in this form it was a huffing sound as it came from deep in my chest.

“Our kind call humans animals Elder,” I said. “What is the difference then?”

“There are lesser animals and greater animals,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Of course there are, but they’re all animals, aren’t they? Vampires can survive on blood from cows in order to not kill humans. Werewolves, even ones bitten, can survive on hearts of deer, sheep, rabbits, etcetera. We don’t have to be monstrous creatures if we don’t want to be. It might be unpleasant, and it might taste really gross sometimes.” I shivered as I thought about some of the things I’d eaten. “But it doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.”

“But *why* would you do it?” she asked. “You are so much more than just a creature Zack. You are a kitsune! You are a being of power and strength. You shouldn’t feel that you are lesser than humans.” Elder Stella was shaking her head and I licked my lips as I considered her words.

“I don’t feel lesser,” I finally said. It was hard to form the right words. “I feel like I’m on the same level, possibly I should help protect them. If I’m stronger, if I’m so much more than they are, but they are the dominating species, then what exactly, does it say about what I am? We aren’t above them, we aren’t more than they are. This world has room for us all to coexist, so we should. Stop thinking of them as a food source, and think of them as people, Elder Stella.”

I felt my tail swish behind me in agitation. Trying to put the thoughts to words was always hard, but I had to try. “The person who you got that food for me from, who were they? Did they have a family at home? Were they the sole breadwinner for the family? Did they have a mortgage? Is their family now going to be left struggling to make ends meet? If they have no one, what is their job? Do they work as a police officer, a doctor, a lawyer? Even if they just work as a cashier somewhere, are they an artist, do they write, are they saving money to go on a trip out of country to meet a friend they’ve talked to for years online? You can’t answer those questions, can you?” She tried to look away from me again, but I hopped off the bed and paced towards her, making her meet my gaze. “And you never will know, because you don’t want to know.”

“That doesn’t matter Zack,” she said and I snapped my jaws in her direction, making her back up. I could feel the fur on my neck start to stand up as I growled at her.

“Of course it matters!” I snapped the words out, skin lifting from my jaws as I said it.

“Don’t try to push your beliefs on me Zack!” she said, growling at me.

“Why not? Because you don’t want to think about what I said? Because it’s easier to think of them as cattle? The last time someone tried to treat human beings as cattle we had a world war. You think we should try again? If you don’t think that way then you *have* to think about what you’re doing.”

“You will die because they refused me,” Elder Stella said and I shrugged.

“Then I died knowing that no one suffered because of me.” I was feeling pretty zen about it actually. Although, I didn’t think I’d last very long in Purgatory all things considered. I shook out my fur and sat back, placid once again.

“You’re a fool,” she said and I could hear the exasperation in her tone. Elder Stella gave me a fond look and then shook her head. “What creature has the best effect on your healing?”

“Excuse me?” I asked, blinking my eyes in confusion.

“If I am to bring them animal brain, I may as well make it a kind that will heal you the best. What should I be hunting?”

“Oh.” I hadn’t thought she would go so far out of her way for me. With a smile, I shook my head. “I don’t know. I tried deer and rabbit before. But if you hunt on my land stick to the woods and don’t kill mothers please. I’ve got four fawns that track across my property and I’d like them to feel safe.”

“Really?” she asked with a flat expression. “I’m not allowed to hunt humans for you, and now I can’t hunt *deer* either?”

“Just on my property. Go down the road a bit, there’s plenty of land. I’m sure you could come up with something.” I grinned at her, and she shook her head.

“This is unbelievable. Fine, fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

I hopped back up on the bed and dug under the covers, laying down so my nose was peaking out. “I don’t want to feel the pain again,” I admitted.

“What doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger,” she said and I could already feel the spirit space begin to disintegrate.

“Really? I hate that phrase.”

“Rest Zack.”


	52. Dean

Dean was pacing, trying to block out everything. His circuit took him past Zack, lying in the bed, bandaged to the best of their abilities but still fast asleep. Hours had passed, and Zack looked exactly the same, barely alive. His skin was pale, breathing shallow, but every time Dean had paused to check his pulse, it was steady. That was the only thing that kept Dean from going out of his mind. The man was dying, because of them and his stupid idea that he had to protect them. It pissed Dean off, and he’d pivot to turn around.

Which was when he’d see Sam, focused on the laptop looking up who the fuck knew what. He wanted to scream at his brother and demand answers, answers to questions like, “Would Zack ever wake up?”. Sam’s gaze never wavered from the screen in front of him, occasionally clicking on something before making useless noises of interest and moving on. It was irritating, and frustrating, and Dean walked past him again.

So far in their adventure to this tiny area of Ohio they’d failed to do anything useful. They hadn’t caught the ghost, didn’t know how to take care of her, hadn’t protected the town, and hadn’t protected Zack. Effectively, they’d done nothing except get injured. A lot. It was beyond irritating, and all Dean wanted was for the idiot in the bed to wake up and tell him he was okay.

With a grumble he turned and was faced once more with Zack lying in the bed. Fuck.

“Listen to this,” Sam said, his voice cutting through the endless circle of thoughts Dean had. “The caretaker at the time of Georgia’s death was apparently in love with her.” He looked up at Dean with a grin, excitement radiating from him. “He tried to get permission to plant a tree on her grave. The city at the time denied his request because the grave was so centrally located in the cemetery. They were worried about having to dig around the roots for future graves.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” It didn’t matter, that didn’t answer any of their questions. Dean tossed his hands up in frustration as he stared at his brother. How did this even help?

“So he got permission to plant one close by.” Sam leaned back and smirked.

Dean stared at him. “So?”

“Is the only purpose of your brain to prevent air from whistling through your head?” Sam stared at Dean for several seconds, but Dean just glared back. He wasn’t willing to let Sam get away with saying that sort of thing about him. “So, I *think* we should be digging up the tree. Or maybe just burning it.”

Finally all the trains were in the station, shaking Dean to his core. The answer was right there, and he’d missed it. If Sam hadn’t been the one to read the information, Dean probably would never have figured that out. That was how wrapped up in Zack he was. It had to stop, he had to disengage. “Right, because he probably didn’t bury her in the coffin, he buried her under the tree. Sick bastard.”

“In love Dean. Not sick.” Sam sounded disappointed in Dean, but it wasn’t like he could be more disappointed than Dean was in himself. “Do we go tonight, or…” When Sam’s gaze moved to Zack, Dean’s did as well.

“I don’t feel right just leaving him here alone,” Dean said finally, feeling the frustration and not having any clue what to do with it. Staying here wouldn’t help matters, but he just couldn’t leave Zack without knowing he’d be safe while they were gone.

There was a knock on the door and they both looked at it in confusion.

“Do you know who that is?” Sam asked.

“No,” Dean snapped. How would he know that? “Do you?”

“Obviously not.” They paused for a second and there was another knock.

“Boys,” a familiar female voice called. “It’s Stella. Let me in.”

Dean groaned as he walked to the door and opened it just enough to peer outside. There was no one but her, and he moved out of the way so she could enter. “Why are you here though,” he asked as he closed and locked the door behind her.

“I have food for Zack,” she said, opening her purse and rummaging around in it for a moment.

“Not this again,” Dean growled out as he turned to glare at her. “You can’t convince me it came from an already dead person unless it smells like embalming fluid, and it’s probably not edible at that point.”

“Would you believe it came from Thumper?” she asked with a sigh. “And Bambi’s mother?” The jar she pulled out had several little blobs in it and Dean wrinkled his nose as he looked in at the blood. And brain matter. And… what did she just say?

“You got pituitary glands from a rabbit and a deer?” Sam asked in surprise, standing up and reaching for the jar in her hand. Dean was having trouble processing the conversation. It was just going too fast for him.

“What?” he finally said and she turned to look at him.

“He agreed with you. Of all the asinine things for him to do,” she finished with a mutter. “He said he’d experimented with animal glands and they work. It’s not perfect or pleasant, and it takes him longer to heal, but apparently…” she trailed off as she handed the jar to Sam and crossed her arms. “I think you’re all foolish, but I’m here to help, so…”

“When, exactly, did you talk to him?” Dean asked, frowning as he looked over at Zack. The man hadn’t moved once, he would have noticed that.

“About an hour ago,” she said. “Dreamscape. Astral projection some people call it. Spirit world others say. Bodies don’t move, soul goes wandering.”

“You can do that?” Sam asked curiously. “Can you heal in that state?” Dean couldn’t care less about a dreamscape, or projection, he only really cared that they might be able to fix Zack, and that he’d agreed with them. That left him feeling a little warm inside.

“Some people can, but you have to create the right space for it, and I don’t think he’s ever made his dreamscape. He was here, in this room when I found him.”

“You went,” Dean said slowly, making sure he got all the pieces correct. “And killed animals for him?” He just didn’t understand one, important, thing. “Why?”

“Because you wouldn’t feed him and he didn’t want it anyway,” she snapped at him. Now she was focused entirely on him, and her eyes flashed. Dean stood his ground and squared his shoulders. He could take her.

“Your kind aren’t known for listening to the desires of others,” Sam said gently. She looked back at him and shook her head.

“That’s not it. We don’t usually listen to the desires of cattle.” Dean bristled at that, but before he could say anything, she sighed and went on. “Look, just feed him and let him get better. Not all of us want this fight you boys are so keen to hold onto. Some of us are working to create a bridge between our kinds.” Stella turned back towards the door. “Make sure he eats that. He knows how to get in contact with me if he needs me. You boys…” she trailed off, glancing between the two of them. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you, to take care of him. Don’t let me find out that trust was misplaced.”

“Why?” Dean asked. He could understand her wanting to help Zack, but he couldn’t quite figure out why she was trusting them.

“Because he claimed you.” She pursed her lips. “Which he can explain to you when he’s awake.”

When the door closed behind Stella, Dean looked at Sam, who was looking at the jar. “Dude, did she really?” he asked.

Sam looked up at him and nodded. “Do you think we can trust these?”

“How the hell should I know?” he asked. Somehow, he felt like that conversation had gotten away from him. The emphasis she’d put on the claiming Zack had done left him feeling a little unsettled, but he had to wait for Zack to be awake before he could address it at all. He walked forward and reached for the jar, staring at the bits in it. “You have to admit, it looks different from the other one she tried to give us. I mean, they’re smaller.” Bloodier too, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud.

“I think we have to trust them,” Sam said softly, looking over at the bed, and Zack. “He doesn’t look better at all. If we don’t do something I think he’s going to die.”

Dean shook the jar and watched the contents move around a bit. “Fine. I’ll do it.” He’d done plenty of torture over time, that was bloodier than this. Now, he had the opportunity to help someone recover from the pain torture inflicted. Especially given everything the man had done for them. No, for him. Pulling out his knife, he took a deep breath and headed for the bed.


	53. Zack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally two chapters, the first part a bonus written for Tanzenlicht because of the fun plot bunnies she gave me. I loved how it turned out too much to get rid of it. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3

I was warm, somewhere soft, with a breeze flowing over my skin. “Hmm,” I murmured, opening my eyes a little. There was grass under my feet, a bright canopy of leaves above my head, and directly in front of my eyes was a sparkling pearl with bright threads of red around it. Taking in a breath, I could smell the food, and my stomach rumbled.

“I have something nice for you here,” Dean said softly. The fingers moved a little, the piece of meat moving with them and I saw Dean’s lovely emerald eyes staring down at me. From the angle, I could tell that I was lying with my head in his lap and my face flushed. What was going on?

Then I watched the fingers move gently down, and I opened my mouth, letting the fresh gland slide across my tongue. It wasn’t human, and I savored the mixture of blood and tender flesh, chewing slowly before swallowing. The rush of life spread out through my body, and I could almost feel my wounds begin to heal. Bruises and internal aches began to soothe and I blinked.

Dean was holding another piece out for me. How much did he have? It didn’t really matter, my body was desperate for the boost and I opened my mouth again. This time, I licked his fingers, getting the drop of blood off of them. The sun peaked out from between the leaves and I felt the warmth of it across my skin.

“Where are we?” I asked him and he shrugged.

“Does it matter?” he asked in return and I couldn’t think of a single reason why it should.

His hand lifted and brushed back my hair, offering me another piece with his other hand. I liked the feeling of his fingers through my hair, and it felt so relaxing being here, being close to him. The way he was taking care of me made me feel like maybe I’d done the right thing, like maybe I was important to him in the same way he was important to me. I liked that thought, and didn’t really want it to go away. Dean smiled at me and let his fingers dip into my mouth, allowing my tongue to twine around them for a moment, sucking them clean. The action sent a shiver through me, heading straight south, leaving a path of warmth in it’s wake.

When he took his fingers back, Dean chuckled and brushed calloused fingers over my cheek. “You’re really hungry, aren’t you?” he asked, and there was a heaviness to the words, a hint of tease so unlike him. He licked his lips and offered me another bite as a flush swept over my cheeks.

“I am,” I whispered and he leaned down.

“I know.” He breathed the words across my cheek and my whole body felt alive. The whole world smelled wonderful, but Dean especially, the heat from his body seeping through to mine. I never wanted to move from this spot again.

*

It was a strange dream I was waking up from. The strangest part was when I opened my eyes, and at least sone of the dream had been true. My head *was* in Dean’s lap. Curious. Also, licking my lips, I could tell that I had been fed. Deer if I wasn’t mistaken. Possibly also rabbit?

Dean wasn’t smiling, which seemed more like him to be honest. He was looking down at me with a small frown, and I could still smell food nearby. I blinked, focused entirely on his eyes for the moment. There was so much I could read in them now, that I hadn’t been able to in the past. Worry chased irritation which in turn chased relief. I had never been good at reading people, but it was like Dean’s face was open to me completely, and I took complete advantage of it.

While I held his gaze, I started to be able to feel my body. There were aches and pains all over, but the deepest parts were already healed, any internal bleeding had been stopped. I couldn’t imagine how many pieces I’d been fed, but I knew it had to be a higher number or I would be feeling much worse. My fingers were stiff and when I flexed them I heard several small snaps as the bones popped back into place. I was still tired though, and a soft groan escaped me before I could think to stop it.

“How are you feeling?” Sam’s voice came from across the room and I watched some of the emotions from Dean’s eyes disappear.

“How do you think he’s feeling Sam?” Dean snapped out, breaking the gaze, and I took in a breath. It wasn’t as bad as Dean thought anymore, but I wanted Dean to know how much I appreciated everything he’d done.

“Painful,” I managed to say. “How… what did you do to get… I mean…” It was even more difficult to ask where the pituitary glands came from than I had expected. It should be an easy question, but I couldn’t imagine Dean or Sam running around the woods chasing forest animals.

“Stella,” Sam said. “She brought us something that came from a human, and when Dean told her he wouldn’t take it, she left and came back with some from, I guess, rabbits?”

“She said you told her what to get,” Dean said softly. I could feel fingers brush against my cheek, as though they had moved without permission. Dean glanced back at me, and I gave him a smile.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “She met me in between worlds.”

“She said it was a dreamscape?” Sam asked curiously.

“That’s one way of saying it.” My hands were throbbing and I sighed. Bruises and cuts, even broken bones would heal faster than my claws. There was no amount of food that could change how long it would take for them to grow back. “It’s a part of the spirit world. We can communicate across distances that way. She brought me to her so we could talk. I’m surprised she agreed though.” Really surprised, because Elder Stella didn’t really believe in what I was doing. She might not want to fight, and she might not think I was completely insane for what I did, but she didn’t really strike me as the type to concede to someone else’s wishes.

“There’s more here,” Dean said and I watched him shrug. In a way I had the best seat in the house, because I could stare at him and it wasn’t inconvenient or unnatural. “But I’m not sure how much you need so I just gave you a few.”

“Thanks,” I managed to whisper. For some reason, Dean had done this himself, helped a monster, fed one the actual food they needed. If I needed any proof that he was changing, growing as a person, it was right here in this action alone. He was warm too, and I wanted to curl up against him. I might not have the chance again. “I… I could eat more, but I can get up.” I tried to move, but Dean pressed me back down on the bed, and into his lap, with one hand. When I stopped moving he lifted his hand and put it against my cheek.

“No. Don’t try to do too much yet.” I followed his movements as he stuck his knife into a jar next to his leg. Deftly spearing another gland, he moved it into my view. I opened my lips and when it was near enough I gently pulled it into my mouth via teeth. Then I licked the tip of the blade off before beginning to chew. It had certainly been sexier to be fed in the dream, but I didn’t mind the reality that much to be honest. Dean was still here, and he didn’t look to be wanting to rush away. He held my gaze for a moment before moving the knife out of the way and looking over at Sam. I could taste the sudden loss of life in what I was eating, and I savored the energy that flowed into me from it.

“I think we should go tonight,” Sam finally said and I looked over to him. I didn’t really want to stop looking at Dean, especially when he was right above me, but I had no idea what Sam was talking about.

“I said no Sam,” Dean said. There was a firmness to the voice that made me feel as though they had possibly been arguing about this for some time. I wondered briefly how long I had been unconscious.

“Dean if *we* don’t kill *her* then *she’s* just going to kill again, you know that. You don’t want that on your head any more than I do.”

“Do you trust him to be alone?” Dean asked as he lightly poked my arm. Suddenly, I thought I knew what was going on. I swallowed and licked my lips. There was no way Dean was going to use me to stop him from doing his job. I wouldn’t let him.

“Are you talking about the cemetery ghost?” I asked.

“Yes,” Sam said and Dean looked back down at me.

“Is there anything else you know you haven’t told us?” he asked.

“No,” I said with a small shake of my head. “You dug up her grave though, didn’t that finish it?”

“She wasn’t there,” Sam said.

“Of course not.” I sighed and closed my eyes. Nothing could be easy, but it sounded like Sam knew how to take care of her. Could I really allow them to stay here with me, when I knew that the ghost was still around and would kill if anyone went into the cemetery? No, I really couldn’t. “I’ll be okay on my own. No one is trying to kill me anymore, and I’m healing so I can run if I need to. Elder Stella wouldn’t have tried to save me if she was going to kill me and if she’s helping me than the other Elders aren’t arguing with her.”

“I’m pretty sure we killed all the other Elders,” Sam said and I tried to remember what had happened. There had been an explosion, and then there had been fighting. I could vaguely recall fighting Elder Gustave, and I do remember stepping between Dean and Elder Stella. My face flushed as that bit came through. I’d claimed Dean. To Elder Stella. Oh, that was embarrassing.

“What were they doing here anyway?” Dean asked, and his voice cut through everything I was thinking.

“Trying to kill you. Or deliver you to the Leviathans, I’m not sure exactly.” They hadn’t told me, and I hadn’t dared ask.

“They tortured you over us?” Sam asked. There was a note of astonishment to his voice, and I nodded. No one really took me seriously, and I couldn’t blame them, but I wasn’t a complete flake.

“I wouldn’t tell them where you were. I wouldn’t tell them I was working with you. Pretty much I pretended to be innocent and they didn’t buy it ever.” I could feel my body healing from the injuries they’d inflicted on me, and I shook as I remembered them. There was no way I would have lasted forever. At some point they would have broken me, and it was just luck that had brought them to me in time. Luck, or possibly… I took in a breath and tried to relax. It was over, and they were both right here.

“What *did* you tell them?” Dean asked and I shook my head.

“Nothing,” I said as I met Dean’s gorgeous gaze. “I didn’t tell them anything. I wouldn’t do that to you.” I didn’t know if Dean could really comprehend what I meant by those words. There were so many things I wanted to say, but because of who he was, and who I was, I couldn’t. It was almost unbelievable they hadn’t even been here a week, but I had learned a lot about them, and about myself, in that time. I wanted to say so much more, tell Dean what he had created in me, but those words would make him uncomfortable for certain, and I was trying not to do that.

Oh, but I knew now, that I loved him, and wasn’t that the saddest thing of all?


	54. Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna admit it. I'm gonna update this thing every time I think of it until it's done. I'm not doing well with structure right now.

“I still don’t think we should be out here,” Dean said as they got out of the car and headed for the cemetery. Sam sighed. Turning on his brother, he crossed his arms and glared. Why did everything with him have to be a fight? “What?”

“You know what,” Sam said. Zack agreed with Sam, that should have been enough of a clue that Dean needed to get his ass in gear. It was as if he thought Zack couldn’t do a thing on his own, and from the bruises and marks, that certainly wasn’t true. Zack had been strong enough to weather abuse by people he was supposed to trust, he could handle a few hours alone in a locked motel room. “Stop worrying about Zack and get your head in the fucking game Dean. If you don’t, one or both of us could end up dead.”

“I just - “ Dean started, but Sam put up a hand.

“Stop. Just stop. We’re going to do the job we came here for and you’re going to be happy it’s done. Then we’re going to go back to the motel, pack up, sleep, and leave in the morning. Got it?” His brother pursed his lips like he was going to protest, but Sam turned away from Dean and slipped over the fence to walk to the tree.

He knew which one was the culprit, now that he knew what to look for. After all, the ghost had been standing by it when they’d first encountered her. Sam had the gas can and a lighter, the salt in his pocket. There was a brief pause before Sam heard the crunch of leaves underfoot behind him and he sighed with relief. Dean was finally with him.

“You don’t belong here!” a vicious voice said, and Sam watched as the woman came around the tree and glared at both of them. He would be ready for her. “This is my property! Private property!”

To Sam’s surprise, the ghost went right past him and grabbed Dean. Her fingers tightened around Dean’s neck and with wide eyes, Dean pulled out a knife and slashed it through her. She disappeared and Sam rushed to the tree to throw gasoline on it. It was an old tree, branches long and gnarled, beautiful in a way, but her life was inside of it now, and unless it was gone, she would never rest.

“Private property,” she called out as she materialized once more, but she wasn’t attacking Sam, so he pulled out the salt and started salting the tree next. She was on Dean in a flash, and Sam moved around and around the tree, trying to make sure it was covered. If he didn’t put enough accelerant on it it simply wouldn’t burn. “Did no one teach you how to behave in other people’s houses?”

Sam glanced at his brother and watched Dean’s skin go pale. She had her hand deep in his chest, and Sam could see him struggling against her. Maybe it was all the fighting they’d been doing, and the fact that Dean was still on the mend, but he couldn’t move. Sam reached for the lighter in a rush and tried to flick it to life. Which was why, of course, it didn’t work. He flicked it a few times, then pulled up his shotgun and pointed it at her head, shooting it off in a second. She faded from sight and he flicked the lighter a few more times.

“Sammy!” Dean cried out and his voice was no longer strangled. Sam looked up and saw Georgina appear next to him. He swung a crowbar in her general direction. She disappeared, but this time she had done it intentionally. When she appeared again in a second she reached right into his chest.

These were the worst jobs, the ones that should be easy but they just weren’t. She disappeared following the sound of a gunshot and Sam took in deep breaths. This time, when he tried the lighter, it flashed to life. He let it fall to the ground, engulfing the tree in flames.

“No!” she cried out, materializing near Sam just to go up in flames herself.

Dean pulled Sam away from the tree and he sagged against Dean. “Finally,” Sam said. He looked at his brother, battered and bruised, in desperate need of a shower and sleep. “Done.”

“Yeah,” Dean said with a nod. Several emotions flashed across his face and Sam wondered once again how invested Dean was in Zack. It wasn’t like the two of them hadn’t discussed tossing in the towel, leaving the game entirely so to speak, but neither of them had agreed to do so at the same time. There was this almost unspoken decision to stay until they died, but Sam thought maybe it was time. The bad things wouldn’t go away, but if they stayed in one place then the bad things would have to come to them. Bobby had done it for decades. “Let me tell you that I’m so ready to leave this place.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure which one of them Dean was trying to convince. “I’m surprised you don’t want to hang around and take a breather. Get some rest, spend some time with Zack.” Dean looked at him with a frown.

“What does that mean?” Dean asked, and Sam shrugged.

“Just what I said.” He gathered his things up to avoid looking right at Dean. It was a trick to make Dean think he wasn’t really invested in Dean’s reaction. The trick worked almost every time. “I think that you have some personal things to resolve with Zack, is all.”

“There is nothing personal going on with me and Zack,” Dean said as he turned and started walking back to the car. Sam raised his eyebrows but Dean wasn’t looking at him anymore.

“I didn’t say there was,” Sam said. It was amazing how intelligent his brother could be, and how stupid. “I’m saying that maybe you want there to be.”

Dean didn’t say anything else until they were in the car and it was moving. “No,” he said finally, shaking his head. “No. I don’t want there to be.”

“Took you a long time to decide that,” Sam mused. Was it possible that Dean had actually considered both sides of the debate and come up with a decision? It was always hard to tell with him, and Sam hoped Dean wasn’t trying to repress thoughts or desires he had.

“Shut up Sammy,” Dean said softly as he looked out the window.

“Fine.” Sam wouldn’t push. Pushing rarely led to good things where Dean was concerned. All he could do was encourage Dean to face his emotions, and maybe, maybe Zack would get through to him.


	55. Dean

No distance had ever felt so great, or so small, as the drive back to the motel room. Sitting in the car, Dean was having a crisis. This was it, the job was done, they’d be leaving in the morning. It meant no more seeing Zack. No more strange, soulful looks, no more puzzling out what he was feeling. If he wanted to understand what was happening to him, he had one night to do it.

Which was of course the biggest problem. Dean didn’t know if he wanted those answers. He’d always shied away from any feelings regarding other men, a strange self loathing had always warned him before he got too involved. Cas had gotten under his skin, and Dean had tried to play it cool. The other man was an angel, he wasn’t interested in Dean in any sort of romantic way, that would be absurd. They had a bond, because Cas had pulled his ass out of hell, that was all.

He couldn’t fall back on those assurances with Zack, because this was new. There weren’t years of camaraderie between him and Zack, only a few short days of yelling at each other and torture. It was nowhere near the level of closeness Dean had with Cas, but there was an intensity to it that was so much the same that Dean finally had to accept it. The shiver that went through him felt an awful lot like fear.

Dean was having feelings, romantic feelings. Feelings that made him want to rush into the room and check to make sure Zack was still okay. Feelings that caused his heart to pound faster when he was around Zack, that had prompted him to pull Zack’s head into his lap so he could stare down at the other man. Dean hated feelings like this, hated how they led him around and didn’t give him an inch of peace. There was no denying them anymore though, Dean had to admit that he wanted to hold Zack close and run fingers through his hair. Very little could be done now that he knew he wanted to kiss Zack, wanted to touch him. Dean didn’t know what to do, or how to deal with those emotions, and he worried about how he would react around Zack now that he knew exactly what was going on.

Heart pounding in his chest, Dean glanced over at Sam as he parked. They were here, there was no going back, no getting away. It was time. Inside that room was Zack, and Dean had to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid, like pull Zack into his arms and kiss him. This was ridiculous, Zack was a kitsune, and male! He shouldn’t be having feelings like this for someone like that.

Dragging his feet, Dean let Sam get to the hotel door first. He knocked on the door before opening it and walking in. “We’re back,” he said softly, Dean slipping in behind him and closing the door. He didn’t want to look at Zack, he didn’t, he… turned and looked right over at the bed Zack was sleeping in.

Zack was curled up, red hair splayed across the pillow. It was soft, that hair, like silk that threaded through Dean’s fingers in gentle waves. He would never forget the feeling of it as he brushed strands away from Zack’s face. He would never forget wondering if the man was going to die in his lap from the torture his own people had inflicted on him.

Shaking himself mentally, Dean walked to the end of the bed and put down the bag of tools. There were only two beds, which was probably good, because one of them should be awake, be on watch. Who knew if Stella would come back to kill them all. She had seemed to be honest in her desire to protect Zack, but Dean wasn’t a trusting sort in the best of times, and this certainly wasn’t. When Zack looked up, Dean took in a breath.

“Is she dead?” Zack asked softly, eyes flickering across Dean’s face before turning to look at Sam. Dean couldn’t help letting out the breath he’d been holding when Zack had held his gaze. There had been a tension there for a moment, but if Zack was looking away easily, Dean was probably the only one feeling it. Did that mean that Zack didn’t feel a connection to Dean, or did it mean that Zack was only sexually interested in Dean? It was hard to know which he was hoping for.

“Yeah,” Sam said as he sat down on the other bed. Dean could hear the springs coil under Sam’s weight. Every nerve and sense was at peak performance, he couldn’t help noticing every little detail. “Whole tree is up in flames, but she’s gone. It’ll probably hit the news.”

“Yeah, between my house and the cemetery, the police have a lot of work to do. I’ve… I’ve been thinking about that actually.” Zack sat up entirely and Dean found it was hard to breathe. There was a seriousness to Zack’s voice that he didn’t like. A finality. “You two should… should probably go. I should call the police, get them here. I can tell them that you two saved me from my house and then left to chase after the killer or something. I’ll make it up as I need to.” He took in a deep breath and looked at Dean. There was a charge there, Dean couldn’t be the only one feeling it. “I mean, I feel like you should rest, but maybe rest a few hundred miles away from here.” His voice was soft now, and Dean could almost hear something inside breaking.

“I was wondering about that,” Sam said gently with a nod. He had, when had he had time to wonder that? Dean turned to look at his brother, heart pounding somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.

“You were wondering about what? We don’t know for sure if we took care of the problem.” Dean was trying to stall, his voice sounded far away, it was hard to breathe. This wasn’t how he wanted to end things, this wasn’t how he wanted to finish this job. “I mean, we should wait at least a day.” The excuse sounded terrible, and wrong. They’d both seen Georgia go up in flames, there was no denying the issue was resolved.

“Dean,” Sam said softly, not looking at Dean. “You know she’s gone. If there are any complications, Zack can call us.”

“Zack is barely mobile.” Dean’s panic was getting worse. He took in several breaths, but none of them seemed to help get air into his lungs. “You can’t expect him to just waltz out of here and be fine.”

“I won’t be waltzing anytime soon. Besides, I’ll be calling the police, they need to see me beat up and if I wait too long then my food will take most of the evidence away. I’ll hide the jar Elder Stella gave me and eat later, when I get home.” He paused. “Or, when I get back to the motel maybe, my home is probably a crime scene.”

Dean was staring at Zack, grasping at anything that might make them stay. “How do we know you’ll be okay?” he growled out. “How do we know that you can hunt for yourself? You’ve never killed anyone, but have you ever been tortured and then left alone before? You need someone to make sure you don’t go off the rails.” It was a low blow, and it sounded like bullshit to Dean, so he knew that neither Sam nor Zack would accept it as a valid reason.

“I can wait. Trust me, I’ve lived among humans long enough to know where my limits are, I’m not going to cross them. Especially since you know who I am and you’ll come to kill me if I fuck up.” Zack narrowed his eyes at Dean. “I mean, you will, won’t you?”

It was a challenge, and Dean knew it, so Dean accepted it. He wasn’t sure he could actually kill Zack, not now that he knew how much he cared about Zack. Not now that he knew he had feelings for him. He nodded at Zack then, accepting responsibility for the words he’d said before, the fights he’d had with Sam over this issue, the certainty he had had, even if he didn’t anymore.

“I will,” he said firmly. The panic was starting to fade, a dead calm settling over his body in its place. This was it, they were going to go, and he might never see Zack again.

“Good,” Zack said with a nod. Then he lifted his gaze and Dean got caught in it again. “That’s good.”

There was nothing good happening right now, and Dean took a few steps closer to Zack. He didn’t know what to do, or how to convey the need he had to stay, so he just reached out and touched Zack’s shoulder. Brown eyes following his movements, they held a note of surprise at the touch.

“Stella… she said something that made me wonder, a few things,” Dean said softly. If he had to leave, then he was going to ask his questions now, while he could.

“What?” Zack asked.

“She said something about… about you “claiming” me. She said you would have to tell me about it when you woke up. If I’m going to be leaving, then I want to know what it meant.” He’d be damned if he would run away without knowing what that had been about.

Zack’s face went bright red and he looked away. “Oh, um, that…” he trailed off, and his voice went so soft, Dean barely heard him. “I was saying you were off limits, saying, well, that you belonged to me. I guess is how you could put it.”

In the shock of that statement, Dean didn’t even hear the motel room door opening and closing.


	56. Zack

It was difficult to sit there, admitting that your monster self had put a claim on the other person in the room, but I’d just done that, and I couldn’t take it back. I didn’t want to take it back. The silence dragged on for so long that I began to panic.

“Oh. I see,” Dean finally said, voice curiously flat. I managed to wrench my gaze to him, and what I saw made my heart hurt.

There was nothing in his eyes. No emotion, no feeling, just a flat gaze with not a single inkling of what he was feeling behind it. He didn’t want me to claim him, of course he didn’t. Dean was human, and a hunter, and had a hard enough time with the thought that I might not be an enemy. I couldn’t slip past his guard and into a single part of him. There was no room for me there.

“Of course, I just meant,” I started, words bubbling out of me. “You know, that you were under my protection, that I wouldn’t let you get hurt by them, that…” I was stumbling, the words completely inadequate. My body felt cold. What was I doing? “Of course,” I laughed a little and it sounded hollow even to my ears. “You wouldn’t need my protection, but I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like - “

He cut me off and even though his voice was soft, I heard and managed to stop talking. “How do you mean it then?” Dean took a step closer, his whole body right next to me, the hand on my shoulder tightening. I hissed in a breath and swallowed.

“How did I?” I repeated softly. Maybe it wasn’t over, maybe there was a chance to salvage the situation, but did he really want the answer to that question?

“How important to you am I? Or were you just claiming me like a prized toy? No one else is allowed to touch?” His voice was harsh now and I shook my head, completely taking the bait.

“Of course not! You’re your own person, I would never suggest you belonged to me like that!” I cried out, standing up. The movement made his hand fall from me but I didn’t care. He couldn’t get the wrong impression, not now when I only had a few more hours before he’d be gone from my life forever.

“No, not a toy, then what? Do you like me? Do you want me?” Now that he was speaking the words were coming fast and furious, a heated anger mixed with something else, some other emotion I couldn’t quite place. “Do you just want to have me?”

Tears filled my eyes. I was feeling a deep pain in the words, a pain that tore at me even though I couldn’t understand it. “No!” I said as I rushed into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold him close. “No, I don’t want to just have you, I don’t want to just have sex with you, it’s not like that! You aren’t a possession!” Somehow I had to make sure he understood. It was so obvious that we couldn’t be anything long term, but that didn’t change the fact that I wanted it.

“Then what?” he said. His whole body was a solid, tense wall, unyielding under me.

“I want you to be happy!” I cried out. My heart was pounding in my chest, my whole body felt tattered and frayed. It was so obvious that he was hurting, but I didn’t know what to do to make that stop. “I want you to not have to worry about your life all the time. I want you to have a place to belong, a place where you can be you, and not have to worry about other people. I want you to feel safe. I want you to stay here, not because you feel you have to, but because you want to!” It was too close to the truth, and there was nothing I could do to stop the words, or the tears that fell down my cheeks.

He didn’t say anything back to me for a long time, and then he sank into me, his arms wrapping around my waist, face pressed into my shoulder. “Even if I can’t be everything you want?” he asked softly.

“You don’t know what you can and can’t be until you try Dean,” I said gently. “There are so many things you don’t know about because you haven’t gotten the chance to explore. Don’t decide what I want for me.”

“You never know, I might want to take you with us.” His voice was soft, breath brushing against my skin and a shiver went through me. It was the best kind of shiver, a touch of anticipation with desire mixed in.

“I can’t go with you,” I said with a small laugh. “I would never survive.”

“You don’t know what you can do if you don’t try,” he returned. I backed away enough to look into his eyes. No more were his eyes flat and emotionless, now they were alive, alert, and entirely focused on me.

“No fair using my words against me,” I said. He reached up a hand, fingers brushing against my cheek.

“I want to kiss you.” The words were so soft I almost missed them. A flush crept across his cheeks and I licked my lips in anticipation.

“Okay.” I wanted that too, so badly, and when he leaned in I closed my eyes. The brush of his lips against mine was soft, tentative. The arm around me tightened and I went with it, molding my body against his. He pulled away for just a moment before kissing me again, this time with more purpose. I couldn’t help the smile as I returned the kiss, fingers slipping into his hair and holding him close to me.

When his tongue swept out I opened my mouth and met it with my own. They swirled together, pressing into my mouth, then into his, each of us interested in tasting the other as deeply as we could. Everything inside me felt weightless, like this moment could last forever, and gods did I want it to.


	57. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've been waiting for this, right? I thought so.

Having decided to check his anxiety at the door, Dean walked forward slowly. When Zack reached the bed, he gently pushed him down to sit on the edge. Even though his heart was pounding and plenty of places deep inside of him were telling him to stop, Dean wasn’t going to. As far as Zack was willing to let him go, he would. Zack had admitted wanting Dean to be happy, the least he could do was admit he wanted Zack.

They pulled away enough for Dean to tug his shirt off. Zack’s gaze slid down Dean’s chest, drinking in the sight of him before looking up again. A slip of uncertainty went through Dean, brows furrowing as he wondered if he was doing this all wrong. Then Zack reached up and touched Dean’s cheek, fingers slipping around to tug Dean down, kissing him again and pulling Dean on top of him on the bed.

Dean couldn’t stop the chuckle as he fell, kissing back with a hum of delight. Zack’s hands traveled down and then up Dean’s back, the touch leaving shivers of pleasure in their wake. Dean reached for the robe, tugging it open enough so he could touch skin. As a rule, no one looked good in hotel robes, but the sight of Zack in it had made Dean’s mouth water, fingers itching to pull it off. Zack was just as interested in the proceedings as Dean was, fingers digging into skin as Dean began kissing down Zack’s neck.

White bandages covered Zack’s body, and Dean carefully avoided them as he ran fingers down heated flesh, tongue sliding across the shoulder, lightly biting each time Zack took in a breath. Fingernails dug into Dean’s back, scratching up when Dean caught a nipple in his teeth.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, licking the nipple again. His dick was painfully hard in his pants, straining against the confinement, but Dean wasn’t about to hurry things. This might be the only time he got this, got Zack. Dean didn’t even know if Zack would want him around ever again, he had to make the most of it.

“You like that?” Zack gasped. His hands grabbed Dean’s ass and squeezed, pulling Dean to him. Rolling his hips against Zack, Dean felt the answering hardness and smirked. Untying the robe, Dean pulled it open completely, working it off of Zack’s shoulders so he was bare, then stepped away so he could look at the body under him.

Zack’s face was flushed, his hips moving off the bed enough to tug the robe out from under him. His eyes raked across Dean, breath coming in short pants as he tossed the robe to the side of the bed, ignoring it as it fell onto the ground. It was like a mostly empty canvas spread out for Dean, skin dotted with freckles, curly red hair beginning just under Zack’s navel to spread out in a thick thatch between his legs. The dick nesting there was long, moving in time to Zack’s breath, already leaking in anticipation. Strong legs moved to pull Zack further up on the bed, and Dean reached out to touch the skin. He wanted to kiss across all of it, biting just enough to leave bruises that Zack would want to keep.

When his eyes traveled up again, they caught on the white bandage on Zack’s hip and he paused, unsure if he should be continuing. Zack had been worked over pretty heavily, and he probably didn’t want someone else to be touching those painful reminders. Swallowing, Dean met Zack’s gaze and was about to speak when Zack did.

“Take off those pants and get up here,” Zack said gently. “Or I’m going to start thinking that I’m the only one that wants this.”

The words released Dean from his fears and his hands moved to obey, not thinking about it until he was stepping out of the pants. Zack’s eyes drank in the sight of him, flickering all around, a smile on his face. Kicking off his shoes, Dean crawled on the bed, leaning down just enough to slide his dick across Zack’s thigh.

“You’re not the only one,” he assured, spreading Zack’s legs so he could settle between them. Leaning down, he kissed a path down the center of Zack’s chest, licking his tongue into the navel before kissing red hair. Fear warred with desire inside of him, a need to touch and taste almost overwhelming in it’s intensity. One hand slipped across Zack’s thigh and then up to the hip, skirting the edge of the bandages to slide down. “Only as far as you want to go,” Dean breathed, looking up at Zack as his fingers brushed down.

Zack spread his legs even further, and he held Dean’s gaze. “I want you,” he whispered. “I want every bit of you you’re willing to give me.”

Surprisingly enough, Dean wanted to give Zack all that, and more. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, heat was spreading out across his body. It wasn’t like he had no idea what to do here, but it was still hard to silence all the bad thoughts swimming around in the back of his head. The differences between doing this with a girl and doing it with a guy were slim, he was sure, and it wasn’t like he’d never had his fingers in his own ass before. He’d had excuses for all those times though, and right here, right now, there was no denying the fact that he was about to have sex with another man.

Leaning down to kiss Zack’s stomach again, he moved his hand to grasp the balls before wrapping fingers around the dick, forcing himself to face his fear head on. Zack’s head fell back on the pillows with a groan that sent waves of desire through Dean’s body. Sliding his hand up, he was completely focused on what he was doing. Zack was longer, and Dean watched his tanned fingers wrap around paler flesh, thumb running up the underside before it flicked over the tip.

“Christ,” Zack gasped. His legs trembled and he arched into Dean’s hand.

“I need to grab lube,” Dean said as he watched his hand on Zack’s dick with a fascination that bordered on awe. He didn’t want to move, he wanted to watch Zack writhe in pleasure. There was a strange sense of pride in that thought, heady and encompassing. Nothing else would give him more satisfaction at the moment than squeezing and touching Zack until he came. Looking away and to Zack’s face, Dean grinned. This was better than he’d ever expected.

Brown eyes met his own and Zack nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Lube.”

“Yeah.” Dean took in a breath and forced himself to pull away from Zack, which made the other man groan. There was always lube in his bag, and he went over to it in a second, pulling the bottle out of the pocket it lived in. When he turned back to Zack, his hands were grabbing his legs, holding them open, showing off every bit of him, face flushed bright red. As his eyes traveled over the display, Dean swallowed, throat suddenly dry. Everything was offered, and Dean wanted to take.

He was opening the lube as he moved closer, pouring out enough to get his fingers nice and slick, hand reaching for the hole before Dean was even on the bed. Swirling a finger around once, he began to push it in. Zack took in a breath, clenching around Dean before relaxing. The sight of Zack swallowing up his finger was something so amazing he didn’t want to miss a second of it. It was only a moment before he was pulling the finger out and adding a second, Zack opening up for him easily.

“Dean,” Zack gasped out. “Feels… feels so good.”

There were no words, only touch and desire, and Dean worked the fingers in and out until Zack was ready for a third. Zack held his legs tightly, fingers digging into his skin so deeply nails broke the surface. Dean saw it from the edges of his sight, and he leaned in to kiss the fingers, stretching Zack more.

“That’s good,” Zack said. “It’s good Dean, you, please, I want you.”

Dean looked at Zack and licked his lips. They seemed oddly dry. “Yeah?” he asked, and Zack nodded his head. “You’re sure?” He punctuated the words by pushing in deeper, finally finding the right spot to make Zack cry out in pleasure.

Arching up, Zack nodded. “Yes, yes, I’m sure.”

“Hmm,” Dean didn’t really like to tease, it wasn’t his style, so he pulled his fingers out. Grabbing the lube, he slicked up quickly. “Okay.” Carefully, he nudged his dick against Zack, meeting his gaze. Zack nodded, and he slipped in.

It was hot and tight, perfect around him, and there was little resistance. Once he was past the initial clench, Zack opened up and Dean slid home in one swift motion. Zack let go of his legs as he cried out, wrapping them around Dean’s waist, hands grabbing hold of Dean’s arms. Taking a breath to steady himself, Dean leaned over Zack, one hand bracing against the bed so he could kiss him. His tongue slipped across Zack’s lips as he pulled out just enough to press in again. Zack groaned and his hands traveled up, fingers tangling in Dean’s hair, holding on tight. Biting Dean’s lip, Zack licked across the injured skin before doing it again.

Dean moved, in and out, setting a hard pace, shifting the angle every other thrust so he could find that spot once more. He reached down with his lube covered hand to grab Zack’s dick, fingers slipping up and down in time to his thrusts. Zack held on tight, small grunts leaving him as he licked into Dean’s mouth, their tongues moving against each other messily.

If this was bad, if this was something Dean shouldn’t ever do, he simply didn’t care anymore. Everything felt right, perfect in the moment, held tight against Zack, dick squeezed perfectly. Dean rarely listened to anyone when it came to his sex life, and as he found the right spot that made Zack’s head fall back into the pillows with a loud cry, Dean realized he would never listen to anyone about this ever again. His whole body was on fire, and he timed his movements so he could hit that spot on each thrust in, his own orgasm hitting him like a sudden wave of relief.

Fingers clenching around Zack tightly, he came deep inside. He leaned down and his teeth found Zack’s collar, biting down hard as he thrust in a few more times, emptying himself completely. Hot liquid spread out across his fingers as Zack came, crying out his name, fingers pulling Dean’s hair so hard it hurt. Everything was held taut, perfect in the moment, and then, as if a string was cut, Dean collapsed against Zack, breathing heavily, licking the skin against his cheek a few times.

“Gods,” Zack panted a few minutes later, his hands and legs falling away as if they were incapable of holding on to Dean any longer. Maybe they weren’t, Dean certainly felt exhausted. He groaned and began to pull out. Zack moaned discontentedly. “Do you have to?” he asked.

“You want me to stay on top of you forever?” Dean asked, shifting his hips a little more. Zack tightened around him and Dean shook his head. “Stop that.”

“I don’t want you to be outside of me yet,” Zack breathed.

With a sigh, Dean relaxed again and closed his eyes. Who was he to argue?


	58. Zack

We must have dozed off because when I came to everything was sticky and Dean had slipped out of me. He was still there though, curled up around me, and I smiled as I opened my eyes.

“Hey,” I breathed when I saw his emerald gaze. “You’re awake?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.” His voice was rough, and I couldn’t help smiling when I realized I was at least partly responsible for that.

“How long was I asleep?” I felt energized. It was almost as if the sex had woken up all the bits and pieces of my body.

“About twenty minutes.” Dean reached up and ran his fingers over my cheek. “I was going to grab a washcloth, but you have been holding my wrist so tightly I couldn’t leave.”

“Oh.” I opened my hand and let him go. “Sorry.”

“No skin off my back.” Leaning down to kiss me, Dean hummed against my lips. “If you really want me gone, I should go.”

“Yeah,” I said as ice went through me. I didn’t want him to go. “I guess you’re right.” We didn’t move for several moments but finally I tapped him on the shoulder. “Will you come back?” I asked. It was obvious that I was afraid he’d say no, my voice trembled and I felt like I was on the verge of tears.

“You still want me to?” he asked. He seemed surprised, and I moved to look at him.

“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

“I thought, maybe… once this happened,” he made a vague motion with his hand to our bodies and I shook my head.

“I want you to come back,” I said. Touching his cheek, I went on. “I want you to come back, and I want you to stay. I want you to feel safe here, I want you to want to leave hunting and choose me.” The words were out before I had even thought them and I held his gaze. When he looked away, I knew I had lost him.

“I can’t leave hunting. I can’t leave Sammy.” There was resignation in his tone.

“Is that it?” I asked. I couldn’t understand what was actually going on with him and his brother, but I knew it wasn’t sexual. They loved each other, but it wasn’t like they needed the other to complete themselves. “Or are you just scared to walk away?” I didn’t know why I was pressing it, but I couldn’t imagine just letting him go without having this conversation.

“Maybe,” he snapped out. “Maybe that’s it, maybe I’m scared to do something that doesn’t feel right. Hunting is all I know, it’s all I have, besides Sam.” He wasn’t looking at me and I nodded, leaning in to touch my face to his body.

“Okay, but I’m here, you can always choose me. You don’t have to be a hunter, you don’t have to wander. I’m not going anywhere Dean, you know my number, you know my address. Stop in when you need to.” It was less than what I wanted, but I was willing to wait for him if that was what he needed to hear.

“That isn’t fair to you,” he said. “Besides, I don’t know if I’m going to live beyond the Leviathan’s. They’re pretty tough to kill.”

“I know. I even think you two might be the only ones capable of defeating them. How about this then.” I reached for his face and made him look at me. “You come see me after that. Once they’re done, once they’ve been dealt with, you stop by. Make that promise to me, and we’ll talk about the rest later, okay? When you’ve had time to think about everything.”

He swallowed, eyes traveling all over my face like he was looking for a reason to not trust me. I hadn’t ever given him a reason to believe I was a liar and I could see it when he accepted my terms. With a small nod, he leaned down and gently kissed me again.

“Okay. I’ll come see you after. It’s a promise.” His voice was soft and I gave him a big smile.

“Good.” Taking in a deep breath, I stretched out and relaxed completely into the bed. “I’ll be fine. You’ll be back, we’ll talk more then. For now, you should get to Sam, you should leave and let me clean up.” I didn’t want to be poked and prodded by doctors, but it was time. Dean was always going to be a part of me now, and I’d get the chance to give him reasons why he should stay. Maybe a powerpoint presentation.

“Yeah.” Dean gave me a small smile and he kissed me lightly once more before he slipped out of the bed. “You’re right. Just let me clean off.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and I did my best to keep myself from crying. I wanted him to stay, I wanted him to come back. The likelihood of him actually doing so was very slim, but I’d hold onto the promise until it was obvious he wouldn’t keep it.


	59. Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness guys, I never meant to string you along so long but here we are. One chapter after this. I hope you liked the ride! <3

The bad thing about stealing people’s cars, besides the theft aspect, was that it was ridiculously simple to make sure things were in the right place. It took no more than twenty minutes to organize and clean up, and Dean still wasn’t out of the hotel room.

Sam had seen the looks, he’d been watching the sexual tension mount to a head, and he didn’t want to be around when things exploded. Which he was pretty sure was going on inside that room right now. He debated whether or not he should go for a ride, just so he would be far enough away that he couldn’t accidentally listen in. Not knowing exactly how things were going though, he decided to stay, and an hour later was regretting that decision. At least he had a book to read.

When Dean came out he had his bag over his shoulder and was walking with a small frown on his face. He got in the passenger’s side and tossed the bag into the back. “Drive Sammy,” he said as he closed the door and buckled up.

There was no way to pretend that Dean hadn’t just had sex. Sam had watched his brother for years, he knew the signs. Usually though, Dean seemed much more happy about things after, and currently he looked moody. As Sam drove, Dean looked out the window, not saying a single thing. It was difficult to tell if things had gone well or not.

When nothing was said for fifteen minutes, Sam finally looked over at his brother. “So? You want to talk about things?” he asked and Dean shook his head.

“No,” he said gruffly, and Sam pursed his lips, wondering how far he should press. He drove in silence for a while, certain that whatever happened, it wasn’t nothing.

“Is Zack still alive?” he asked finally, hoping to snap Dean out of his mood. Sam was fairly sure Zack was still alive, and his trick actually managed to work. Dean snapped his gaze to him.

“Of course he is Sammy!” Dean said in a rush. “Why the hell wouldn’t he be?”

“So you didn’t kill him then?” Sam pressed with a small smile. Dean looked away again, but when Sam glanced at him, he saw that Dean’s eyes were wet. That was unusual, to say the least.

“No.” Then he took in a breath. “I’m coming back. After… after we do the leviathan thing, once they’re taken care of, I’m coming back. We’ll… we’ll see how things go from there.”

That was… odd to say the least. Had Dean finally managed to fall for someone again? “You’re coming back? Or we’re coming back?” Sam asked. Was this a personal thing Dean had to do, or was it something he thought Sam should be involved with?

“I…” Dean started, but he stopped with a sigh and didn’t say anything again for a while.

Sam reached out and lightly touched Dean’s arm. “You know I’m here, if you need to talk about something. No judgement zone.” Whatever was bothering Dean, it was big. Very big. There was a weight to the air that Sam wasn’t used to.

“I know.”

“Okay.” Sam squeezed the arm and let go. Whatever had happened, it had changed Dean. The question was, was it a good change or a bad one? Sam wanted Dean to get some kind of break, he felt like they both needed it, but Dean didn’t seem interested in that really. It was unhealthy for them to be so dependent on each other, but they couldn’t trust anyone else. It’s what always got them killed.

“You wouldn’t care, would you Sammy?” Dean asked a little over an hour later. “I mean, if I was into dudes too.”

“Of course I wouldn’t care,” Sam said, glancing at Dean. Dean’s eyes were closed and he was still leaning against the passenger’s side window. “Why would I?” Sam couldn’t imagine why Dean might think it would.

“Dad would,” Dean breathed out the words. He opened his eyes and looked at Sam. “He’d beat the everliving crap out of me just for asking.” Sam could hear the tremor of terror in Dean’s voice, and it was like they were kids all over again, trying not to piss off their father and get a beating. Dean had always had it worse, Sam was coming to find out over time, and he’d never really noticed. There were times when Sam hated himself for not knowing, for making Dean’s life more difficult, but what could he have done? They both had been kids.

“I’ve never been Dad,” Sam said firmly. “And you shouldn’t be either.”

“Okay.” Dean nodded and looked out the window. “Let’s kill them all Sammy. The Leviathan’s. Let’s take them down and maybe take a break after. A long break.”

Whatever had prompted this, Sam approved. It was past time they considered their position in this war more firmly. “Sounds like a plan.” Sam reached out his hand, and Dean took it without even looking over. They squeezed for a moment before letting go. Sam would do anything he could to make that wish come true for Dean.


	60. Zack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The end. This labor of love is done. I'm so thankful to everyone who's been reading, it tickles my heart to see the counter go up. I know that OC's aren't generally liked, so thanks for sticking with Zack through all his trials. (And Dean as well of course. ;) )

“With this devastation to SucroCorp who knows if the company will ever again reign supreme.”

“The fall of a legacy. Dick Roman has died, leaving a hole in his company, and in all of our hearts.”

“Who will help a dying company? Up next, is fast food actually good for you?”

*

“I know I’ve left messages before,” I said into the phone. The fear I had that Dean was dead had faded over time. Now I felt almost resigned, fairly certain I would never know what happened to him. It was Wednesday though, and I always called on Wednesday’s. “And I should stop. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me ever again, but I just…” Taking in a breath, I lost all dignity and said what I meant. “Dean, I just want to know you’re alive, okay?”

Closing my phone, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. It had been about a year since Sam and Dean went against SucroCorp, but I hadn’t heard from either of them. I had no idea what had happened, and when I tried to call Sam, the phone just went to voicemail. I shouldn’t be bothered by it, but I was. I wondered briefly if every friend of a hunter felt like this. Alone and unimportant.

I looked around the house. Over the year I had repainted, recarpeted, and replaced most of my furniture. My money had gone up, and down, and up and down as the projects got done, but I could still see the Elders in my mind when I closed my eyes. Sometimes I thought I was hearing them laughing and I would turn, ready to fight, but no one was there. It was getting bad enough that I occasionally considered moving away.

The problem was I didn’t break promises and I’d promised Dean I would be here. He’d promised to visit. There were promises involved, and I hadn’t been able to wrench myself away from the home I’d made for myself. The area was perfect for me, I didn’t want to move to a busy city and I didn’t want to spend the time scouting for a new quiet town. If only I could get a full night’s sleep, I’d be okay.

The knock woke me up and I flailed in my desk chair, nearly falling backwards onto the ground. The bright light of my computer made me squint, glancing at the time. Three am, no one came to visit me, much less so late. I rubbed sleep out of my eyes. The knock came again, more insistent this time, and I stood up, walking to the door in a bit of a daze.

Peering through the glass in the door I took a look at the man outside. He had a thick beard with flecks of blood dotting it, face was dirty, new clothes tossed over a dirty body. Frowning, I met his gaze through the glass and recognition set in. Bright emerald eyes were looking at me as though I was the most amazing thing in the world.

“Dean?” I whispered. Opening the door, I rushed to him, wrapping my arms around him to hold him close. Dean was alive, he was alive, and he was on my doorstep! “Where the hell have you been?” I breathed, not wanting to move away, even though he was barely holding onto me.

“Not Hell,” he said, and his voice was rough, hard. Pulling away finally, I searched his face, seeing the walls build around his emotions as he looked at me. No doubt they hadn’t served him well, wherever he had been. With a nod I moved to hold the door open for him.

“Come in,” I said. “You can use the guest bath.”

One hand was clutching a wicked looking weapon, something I’d never seen before. I closed the door behind him and locked it, quite happy that I lived far enough away from the road that no one could have seen him come up to the house. Once inside, he looked around uncertainly and I realized he didn’t know where the guest bath was.

“This way,” I said, turning to the open pocket door behind me. I walked into the office and then to the second bathroom, turning on the light and pulling guest towels from the cabinet above the toilet. “Unless you’d rather a bath,” I said with a pause, looking at Dean. He just shook his head and I gave him a nod. “There’s shaving supplies on the shelves,” I said as I pointed to the glass shelves set into the walls on either side of the sink. Then I opened the shower door and showed him how to turn on the water. “Take as long as you’d like.”

“You haven’t changed, have you?” Dean finally asked and I raised an eyebrow.

“Why would I have?” I asked. It seemed an odd question to me.

“How long have I been gone?”

“It’s been about a year since you attacked SucroCorp.”

His eyes searched mine for a few moments before he nodded. “Feels longer.”

“Get cleaned up,” I said. If he thought it was longer than a year it made sense he would think I might have changed. Not much had happened to me specifically though, except for nightmares and redecorating. I reached out and lightly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you hungry? I could make something for you to eat.”

“No brain,” he said with a smirk.

“Hamburgers? I promise to leave the brain out,” I offered with a returning smirk. He still had humor, that was a good thing.

Closing his eyes, Dean nodded. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

I walked out and closed the door behind myself, heading into the kitchen. Whatever had happened to him might have changed his very nature. There was deep pain in his eyes, and a horrible ache that I couldn’t understand, or comprehend. I didn’t know what to do for him, so I pulled out ground beef, eggs, breadcrumbs and a few other things, determined to make a burger so good he was able to go to sleep full and happy.

*

“If you don’t slow down, you’re going to make yourself sick,” I said with a chuckle, eating another pickle slice as I watched him shovel food into his mouth.

“This is the best burger I’ve had in, in forever,” he said with a deep breath. His face was clean-shaven, all the dirt and grime gone and presumably clogging my drains. I had offered him a pair of lounge pants and an oversized t-shirt, which he was filling out nicely. All his clothes were in the washer downstairs, I wasn’t even sure they’d all come clean. He looked amazing to me, probably because I was still reeling over the fact that he’d actually come to me.

“Where were you?” I finally asked, taking out another pickle and eating it.

He watched me for a moment before he spoke. “Purgatory.”

I took in a quick breath. “I’m never going to survive there, if that’s what you look like having been there for a year,” I breathed. Dean was used to fighting and he had looked like hell, how was I going to survive?

“No,” Dean said with a nod. “You’d be best off finding a place to hole up, praying that everyone leaves you alone. It’s not like you ever really die. I mean, I killed the same creatures several times, and they kept coming for me. I guess since I was human, and since I wasn’t really dead, I was a much bigger target than anyone else. If they’d managed to capture me then I really would have died.” He ate a few more bites before talking again. “There was a simplicity to the place that I appreciated. It was… it *was*. You know? I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Sounds rather scary to me.” I shrugged. “But you know how I feel about fighting.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded and finished his burger, licking his fingers off and pushing his plate away. “Anyway, I’m back. I’m out.”

“I’m glad you are.” I reached across the table and touched his hand. It flinched under me, but then relaxed.

“Yeah.” He looked at me and licked his lips. “Zack. I don’t know…” Taking in a deep breath, he nodded his head. “I don’t know where Sam is.”

“I tried to call him, but his phone just goes to voicemail. You’d be better off looking for him than I would be.” I frowned. “You don’t have other numbers to try?”

“Didn’t have a phone. Didn’t have money. I…” he trailed off again and finally looked away. I felt like he was avoiding something, but couldn’t fathom what that might be.

“Dean,” I said, squeezing the hand a little. “It’s okay. You can stay here as long as you need. You can also borrow my phone, of course. Call whoever you want to.”

“Thanks.” He looked back at me. “You’re safe here?”

“Well, Elder Stella has kept me from repercussions as far as I can tell. No one’s come knocking on my door anyway, but there are a lot of elder kitsune’s who think that I’m responsible for the Council’s demise. I could move, but…” I took in a breath. “I made a promise Dean. I would be right here. If I left…” It felt silly now that I was saying it all out loud, but I wasn’t going to lie to him.

“That’s stupid. You should look out for yourself.” Dean turned his hand and laced his fingers with mine. “Thanks. I’ll be better after a night’s sleep. Can I use your phone in the morning?”

“I said so, didn’t I? I’m not going to take that back. Sure you don’t want to call tonight?” It felt good to have his hand in mine, and I didn’t want to move. Not even to give him my phone.

“Yeah. I just… I just want to not, right now. I just want to be here.” He stared at me for another few moments before he stood up, tugging me up as well as he didn’t let go of my hand. “Your room is at the end of the hall, right?” he asked and I nodded. Leading the way down the hall, he turned off lights as he passed switches and didn’t bother to turn on my bedroom light at all.

“Dean?” I whispered, a little confused. Did he want to sleep, or was he looking for something more?

“I thought about you a lot,” he said softly, turning around so he was facing me. “All the time. I thought about what you’d said, about me staying here, about me quitting hunting.”

“Yeah?” I wanted the answers, every answer he was willing to give me.

“Yeah.” He leaned in and kissed me. I had to wonder if he had gained night vision while he had been in Purgatory, but probably he just had good spacial awareness.

It was a brief kiss, over too soon. My heart had started pounding harder in my chest, and I couldn’t help the little moan that came from me. I hadn’t had sex since the last time he’d been here and it didn’t take him doing much for me to remember everything all over again. Want wasn’t a strong enough word, I was craving his touch, desperate for him.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked, because I had to ask. He had just come back from Purgatory, and whatever that meant, it had hurt him. Didn’t stop me from moving closer so I could touch his cheek.

“Do you want? Or do you have a boyfriend now?” 

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I whispered, and he slipped his arms around my waist, pulling me close. His mouth was on mine again, more fiercely now, tongue slipping past my lips in a rush. Moaning against him I wrapped my arms around him and tangled my hands in his hair.

There was no hesitation to Dean this time, and it took me moments to become dizzy, our tongues sweeping from mouth to mouth. His hands swept down my hips to grab my ass and I went with the motion, rocking against him, our dicks hot and hard, both of us ready for more. Whatever else had happened to him, he was on board this time, eager and wanting.

He walked backwards until he hit the edge of the bed and fell back on it, pulling me with him. With a laugh I went down, putting my hands out so I wouldn’t knock my head into his. He grabbed my shirt and pulled it off in one quick motion, our lips finding each other once it was gone. As we kissed, he moved to undo the laces of my pants, and in an effort to not be outdone, I did the same.

My hands touched heated flesh as I pushed his shirt out of the way. His skin was soft and I ran my hands up, brushing over his nipples. They were already hard, and I twisted them lightly, getting a groan from him for my efforts. He slipped his hands into my pants and I felt a shiver of desire slip down my spine.

With a turn, he flipped us so he was on top of me, lifting his arms so I could tug his shirt off all the way. Then his hands were on me again, pulling down my pants and tossing them to the side. I could barely see him, body mostly an outline, but I could tell as he pulled his own pants off. Reaching out my hands, I made grabby motions towards him and he chuckled.

“Miss me?” he asked softly. Then he moved further away and turned on the lamp on my nightstand. Blinking a few times in the dull light, I watched him come back to me, eyes traveling over my body with hunger. Relaxing into the sheets, I nodded at him.

“I missed you,” I said, and for some reason it choked me. “I missed you so much Dean. I didn’t know what had happened, I just wanted you to come back. I wanted to know you were alive.” There was no reason for me to get so emotional, but I couldn’t seem to help it.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he came back over to me. “If I could have, I swear I would have called you.”

“No calling collect from Purgatory huh?” I said as I watched him lean down and kiss my chest.

“Nope.” Then he was on me again, hands traveling over my whole body, kissing and licking each bit of skin he could reach. I gasped out, hands clutching onto him tightly. “I’ll have to make it up to you.”

“You don’t,” I whispered as I scratched my nails down his sides. Nothing on me was injured this time, I didn’t have to be careful, I didn’t have to watch what I was doing. This was the time I got to take, and not worry.

He rolled his hips, our dicks pressing together hot and hard. I bit his shoulder and he chuckled. Turning us around so I was on top of him, he smirked.

“Are you a biter?” he asked. He ran his fingers down my chest, flicking both nipples sharply. In answer, I leaned down and sucked one of his nipples into my mouth, biting it when I pulled away.

“Does it scare you?” I asked with raised eyebrows. I bit across his chest, sucking the other nipple into my mouth and across teeth.

“No,” he breathed, meeting my gaze and tangling his fingers in my hair. “Just don’t break skin.”

That was an easy enough command, blood play wasn’t my thing. I liked to bite though, and I did it, a groan leaving him as I repeated the action a few times. I ran my hands up and down his sides, nails scratching skin as I rolled against him, both of our dicks leaking.

“Dean,” I moaned, already so close I wasn’t sure I could hold out for much more.

“Lube?” he asked and I moved to open the top drawer on my nightstand. He took it from me and squeezed some onto his hand before reaching between us and wrapping his fingers around both of our dicks.

“Fuck,” I breathed out. It felt way too good and I grabbed his shoulder in my teeth, biting down hard. He moved his head to suck at my neck, teeth biting hard as he did so. Pleasure raced through me, every nerve on fire with it. I latched on to his neck, hearing a groan from him as I did.

It would have been embarrassing how quickly I came, but he was following me right over the edge so I didn’t even have to think about it. I lay panting on top of him and he kissed my neck a few times before pulling his hands out and wiping them off on my comforter. Laundry, tomorrow, I thought. If it was sunny I might dry it outside.

“I want to stay,” he said very softly a few moments later, and I was almost certain I hadn’t heard him.

My heart stopped for a moment, and I closed my eyes, not daring to believe what he’d said. “Yeah?” I whispered.

“Yeah.” He lifted a hand and threaded his fingers in my hair. “I… I’ve seen where they go. I know how things happen. Zack, I don’t want…” Dean took in a deep breath and held it before letting it go. “I don’t want to only be this monster that the monsters fear. I don’t know what I want to do, I don’t know who else I want to be, but I do know that I want to stay with you and figure it out.”

“Oh.” I swallowed and felt the tears well in my eyes.

“Do… do you still want me?” he asked, and I could feel the fear through the tremble in his voice.

“Yes!” I moved enough to look into his eyes. “Yes. I want you. I still want you so much.” I tried to put all my want into the gaze, tried to show him how much I wanted to keep him forever.

“I have to find Sam, I need to know what’s going on, but…” he paused and took in a breath. “You’re right, you were right. I hadn’t really thought about my life exactly, I was just living. I don’t want that anymore.”

“Okay.” I kissed him and nodded. Lowering my head to his chest again, I listened to his heart as it pounded fiercely. “Stay, as long as you want. Stay forever.”

“Yeah.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading all! <3


End file.
